


fragments of　ｓｔａｉｎｅｄ　ｇｌａｓｓ

by everysinglefrog



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Racism, Angst, Case Fic, Connor-centric, Crime Scenes, Explicit Language, F/M, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Severe Injury, Virus, android gore, cyberlife is a metaphor for capitalism, ft hank takes care of his robo son, i try to write a continuation for everyone, kara with a big loving family, markus the revolutionist painter, maximum effort fic, now including classic favorites such as press △ to analyze, or are they, overuse of game formatting and fun fonts, simons feelings for markus are unrequited, tbh ive spent way too much time on this, underground criminal organizations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everysinglefrog/pseuds/everysinglefrog
Summary: ［△］ＰＲＯＣＥＳＳＩＮＧ　ＤＡＴＡ０％．．．　５０％．．．　１００％███████▒▒▒［☐］ＲＥＣＯＮＳＴＲＵＣＴThings are a mess in Detroit. The city has its hands full with anti-android hate crimes, the spread of viruses, and continuing discrimination. While Connor chases leads that point to some kind of underground organization, Markus pushes for the rights of his people, and Kara struggles with safety versus isolation in Canada.Like the game, the story is divided into the three perspectives of Connor, Kara, and Markus, which all intertwine by the end. Based off the canon good path—pacifist route, no deaths, and high relationship levels.△ ◯ ╳ ☐





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys whats up! there was a lot of worldbuilding to cover in this first chapter. connor's section ended up the most developed. markus's and kara's had to be cut a bit short to fit everything, so they're mostly just exposition, but i have some cool scenes planned out for them next chapter!

**ＮＯＶ　１２ＴＨ** ，　２０３８  
ＡＭ　 **０３：４８** ：０５

“You’re wrong.”

Markus’s words came from a place of genuine concern, but there was a sharpness to them that pierced the air around them, stinging in Connor’s ears. He wondered if he’d said something wrong. Shaking it off, Connor continued, matter of factly, “I just don’t think I’m the right fit.”

Gradually, Markus’s gaze softened, tone warm. “Connor, you’re one of us. What you’ve done here today only proves how much our people need you. This entire movement could have been lost if it weren’t for you.”

He’d infiltrated CyberLife and led androids into Detroit, but that alone couldn’t grant him a warm welcome into Jericho, let alone a spot amongst its leadership. When the thrill of victory subsided, those of Jericho would surely realize their mistake in letting him in. He didn’t belong here. He couldn’t understand why Markus trusted him after he’d hunted him down, leading to the attack of Jericho in the first place. Connor couldn’t even trust himself, not after…

“Well, just know that the offer still stands if you change your mind.”

Connor watched silently as he turned his back to him and joined the others. If Markus knew the truth, he wouldn’t have made the offer. It’s not that Markus would hate him, but he’d simply recognize that Connor didn’t deserve their trust. And it would be the straightforward, logical conclusion. Yet, somehow, Connor could not bring himself to tell Markus that he’d almost assassinated him during his victory speech.

If he could be so easily taken control of, how long before it would happen again? Before CyberLife would find a workaround for Kamski’s “emergency exit”? Connor couldn’t position himself among the most important members of the movement.

He decided to distract himself, to return to the noisy scene amongst the other androids. This was a triumphant day for his people after all.

 _His people._ Somehow he didn’t feel he had the right to call them that.

Jericho was in celebration. The humans had evacuated. Connor overheard conversations of taking over the surrounding area and forming it into “New Jericho”. He recognized the faces of Markus’s closest friends, North, Simon, and Josh, chatting to each other. As he walked by, they beamed at him. Other androids, those he didn’t even know, came up to him to shake his hand, to congratulate him, to _thank_ him. They called him a hero. It was all… too much.

He kept walking. Some androids had broke into song. Around the edges of the gathering, there were androids holding hands, even kissing.

Eventually he’d walked until there was no one else around.

~~~

Morning had come. Connor found himself in the empty streets of Detroit. By now, the troops had withdrawn and the citizens had been evacuated. It was a ghost town.

He knew his place was not with Jericho, and he couldn’t return to CyberLife as he had done every day of his life. He simply trudged on through the abandoned city.

It wasn’t long before he reached his destination. Moments later, he was hit by a wave of relief. There, standing in the snow no more than 20 feet away, was his partner.

Hank.

Hank had been waiting for him, huddled underneath the sign of the boarded up Chicken Feed.

Warmth filled the frigid landscape. Connor walked forward until he was face to face with Lieutenant Anderson. He didn’t know what to say. There was too much to say. Without a word, the lieutenant reached an arm out and pulled him into a hug, surprising Connor.

A wordless action that made him feel more at home than a thousand words of welcome ever could.

~~~

Sumo got more exercise that month than he had in the last year. With a million things on his mind and nothing to occupy himself with, Connor was high-strung, using any excuse to do something, which often meant walking the dog for hours at a time.

Maybe it was all the walks, or maybe all the pets, or maybe all the food he rewarded him with, but Sumo had really taken a liking to Connor. At first, the dog had seemed a bit apprehensive toward him, likely because he was some unfamiliar plastic being that carried no organic scent and appeared almost lifeless at times. And Connor, never actually having been around a dog before, took a while to learn how to interact with one. But some attention and a few gentle pats later and Sumo had accepted Connor as a part of the family.

Of course, he had to constantly remind himself that he wasn’t. This was only temporary. He couldn’t burden Lt. Anderson for longer than was necessary. Connor would have to go back to CyberLife eventually, and he would be prepared for the worst when he returned. The thought of it put him on edge.

To avoid his own mind, he tried to keep himself occupied. There wasn’t much to do. Detroit was mostly evacuated, with very few businesses open. Even the Detroit City Police Department precinct was empty, a month to go before it was scheduled to resume operation, and still longer before the city would be back to its usual liveliness. With Sumo exhausted from a two hour walk and nothing else for Connor to do, he decided to make himself useful.

Lt. Anderson wasn’t the neatest person, so Connor took it upon himself to do a bit of reorganization. It’s the least he could do to show his appreciation. He sought out every last task that the lieutenant had put off for weeks, transforming the place into an orderly house of respectable living conditions. When the lieutenant returned home, Connor stood in the living room, arms behind his back, smiling as he walked in. Sumo trotted up to the front door to greet him, tail wagging.

“What the hell did you do to my house?”

Connor was taken aback by the accusatory tone. “I reorganized. The trash is taken out and the laundry is folded away. I also vacuumed all the dog hair and—”

“Jesus Christ, Connor, you’re not my fucking maid.” Lt. Anderson rubbed at his temple with his free hand, the other holding a small grocery bag.

Connor’s expression turned downcast. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I was trying to be helpful. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset. I’m not. It’s just…” He sighed, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Connor could have sworn he heard the lieutenant mutter a pained _“Fucking androids…”_ under his breath as he walked into the kitchen and set down the grocery bag. He pulled out a pack of beer, retrieving one can and putting the rest in the fridge.

“You shouldn’t drink so much, Lieutenant,” Connor advised.

“I shouldn’t do a lot of things,” the lieutenant retorted.

Connor knew he didn’t care about his health. He knew he actively sought to _destroy_ his health. But it was something that worried Connor. He wanted to _make_ him care about his health. He just didn’t know how. He could do nothing but watch as the lieutenant took a long swig of beer.

“What’s on your mind, Connor?”

There were many thoughts on Connor’s mind. “I’m not sure what you mean, Lieutenant.”

“First you work my lazy dog into an overactive furball, then you turn my whole house upside down. You can’t take a day to relax.” Lt. Anderson made his way back to the living room. “Something’s bothering you.”

Connor averted his gaze. “I suppose.”

The lieutenant slumped onto the couch with a muffled thud. “Sit down,” he said, patting the seat next to him.

Connor gently lowered himself, staring at the blank television screen in front of him.

Lt. Anderson could be a very caring person, when he wanted to be. Connor often had trouble understanding his own emotions, and it was the lieutenant who helped him work through them. That isn’t to say he had a particularly _gentle_ way of handling it, but oftentimes it was the kind of sternness Connor needed. And he was surprisingly patient when it mattered.

Reluctantly, Connor allowed himself to express what had been bothering him. He remembered Amanda, and how he had barely felt the euphoria of success before it was ripped away and replaced by fear. He still worried that he would lose control of his own body again but with no escape button to save him. He fretted over his betrayal of CyberLife, the company to which he owed his life and purpose. Each night he didn’t return to CyberLife to line up against a wall in stasis awaiting his next mission brought more unease. Not that he wanted to go back to that—the cold, lifeless hallways and the stress of constantly being watched, monitored. He craved having a home. Having a private space to call his own. But he couldn’t.

His thoughts were difficult to translate to Lt. Anderson, who waited until Connor had finished before saying anything.

“I know it’s not much, Connor, but this _is_ your home now, if you’ll take it. I’m not gonna treat you like some kind of freeloader.” He scratched a sudden itch on the side of his beard. “Hell, I don’t _want_ you to leave. I mean…” He glanced toward his dog, fast asleep in the corner of the living. “I’m sure Sumo would be pretty torn up about it.”

Connor smiled, peering at Lt. Anderson from the corner of his eye. He was smiling too. After taking that in, Connor continued, “I don’t really understand what it means to be a deviant.”

“Well shit, not sure I’m the best person to ask. Uh, how do you feel?”

“I don’t know. I’m lost. Before I went deviant, I just followed my instructions. The mission always came first, or at least it was supposed to. Now I’m free and nothing makes sense anymore.”

The lieutenant leaned back against the sofa, eyes closed. “You’re trying to find your purpose. That’s a very human thing to want, Connor. It’s not gonna be easy.”

“I just want answers. About myself.”

“You’ll find ’em. Just give it time.”

~~~

Hank was always mildly amused at the ways Connor found to entertain himself. He’d be sitting in front of the television with a drink in hand when he’d hear a faint _“plink… plink…”_ sound behind him, and sure enough there Connor would be, looking on from where he stood, messing with a coin. It was mildly annoying, but he let it go. He had to admit, he was pretty good at the coin tricks. Connor had tried to show Hank how to do a few here and there, but it certainly wasn’t the lieutenant’s strong suit.

When Connor wasn’t stalling for time, he was actively seeking to reform the lieutenant’s household. Apparently something inside him had snapped after the fourth night of frozen pizza dinners in a row. In protest, he’d cooked up something awful, a “balanced, healthy meal” that lacked any seasoning whatsoever. Hank hadn’t had the heart to tell him how bad it tasted; the part of him that appreciated it outweighed the part that was crying for help.

Everyday, Connor asked Hank if he’d like to join him for a walk with Sumo. He didn’t always accept, dreading those infamous multi hour walks, but it got easier each time he did. They always went home when Hank said he was tired, at which point Connor would notify him of the time taken and distance traveled, improving everyday. Connor may have been trying to get him in shape, even on his days off. Sneaky bastard.

Not even Sumo was safe from Connor’s projects. He was an old dog, but that didn’t stop Connor from trying to teach him new tricks. He was completely untrained, save for the call of his name. It seemed another way to pass the time, for Connor. He tried teaching various commands such as “sit”, “stay”, and “shake”, but the old dog would just stare back patiently. Connor couldn’t help but give him the treats anyway, just for “being such a good boy.” This probably didn’t teach him anything.

And maybe it was a subconscious thing, but Hank found himself drinking less and less as the days passed. He’d feel guilty whenever he’d grab a can of beer and Connor would just give him _that look._ It became difficult not to care about himself when Connor seemed to care so much.

He was even gradually waking up earlier each day, going to bed a little earlier each night, when one morning, it finally happened. Lt. Anderson had woken up before Connor.

Until now, he hadn’t even stopped to consider what Connor did during the night, or whether he was capable of sleep or not. Even now, he wasn’t sure he knew the answer.

When he first walked into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, he grumbled his usual “Mornin’,” but it wasn’t met with the usual chipper “Good morning, Lieutenant” he’d gotten used to. He looked over to where Connor appeared to be sitting on the couch. At first glance, he seemed awake.

Hank approached him quietly. Connor was completely still, sitting up straight, eyes wide open, but LED indicator powered off. He looked him over, dumbfounded. It was so unnatural, he couldn’t help but worry, yet he didn’t want to disturb the android’s sleep, if that’s what this was. Sitting back down with a cup of coffee at the kitchen table, he decided to give it 15 minutes, and if Connor still hadn’t moved, he’d try to figure out if something had gone wrong.

7 minutes passed before he got his answer.

Connor blinked a few times and life returned to his body, LED indicator settling on a calm blue. When he noticed who was in the kitchen, he smiled a “Good morning, Lieutenant” and stood. He went to Sumo, bent down to touch his fur and whispered a soft “Good morning, Sumo.”

“Do you sleep like that every night?” Hank questioned.

“I go into stasis, yes,” Connor replied. “It gives my systems time to rest or perform scans and updates. My processor logs important memories away, similar to a human brain.”

“Huh. Okay then.”

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”

“I just didn’t expect it is all. Finding you like that.”

“What do you mean?”

The lieutenant huffed. “Well, I guess it’s not really my business where or how androids sleep.” And he dropped the subject.

~~~

**ＮＯＶ　３０ＴＨ** ，　２０３８   
ＰＭ　 **１１：２９** ：０２

The following night, as the lieutenant was getting ready for bed, Connor was reminded of their earlier conversation. He didn’t understand the lieutenant’s problem with his method of entering stasis. It was the way he’d done it every night. Maybe he shouldn’t use the couch. At CyberLife, he had always entered stasis in a location convenient to others and out of the way. He probably shouldn’t have been taking up one of the only seating areas in the house. He didn’t bring it up again.

His train of thought took its usual turn for this time of night, old worries returning to haunt him. But unlike yesterday, he kept them to himself, feeling weirdly distanced from Lt. Anderson.

He thought again of Amanda. He’d once trusted her to guide and protect him, and she’d turned on him. Or had he turned on her? He supposed he could only blame himself for what happened.

As a CyberLife prototype, he was able to enter the Zen Garden at will or wait until Amanda pulled him in, but ever since what happened he’d never tried again. He needed answers. Maybe he could talk to Amanda. Or maybe he could find something in the Zen Garden that would help him learn about himself. Either way, he knew it was not something Lt. Anderson would even remotely approve of, but he had to do it. He waited until the lieutenant had gone to sleep before trying it out.

Connor closed his eyes and entered the virtual location of the Zen Garden. The place was covered in densely packed snow, albeit no longer falling from the sky. Amanda was nowhere in sight.

It only took him a moment to realize the world felt unstable. Looking closer, it seemed to be coming apart at the edges.

He walked cautiously forward. The crunch of snow was distorted and broken beneath his feet. It felt difficult to move.

Soon, his vision started to bug out, his footsteps growing louder in his ears. The world would flicker in and out of existence, objects would invert themselves, wireframes would flash briefly on some structures. It was nauseating.

He looked for something, anything, to give him the answers he had come searching for. The flickering of the unstable world become unbearable, disorienting.

He felt his own body stutter in and out of reality, an unsettling realization. Suddenly he was looking into his own memory, recordings Amanda had played back to him in disapproval. He saw her face for just a moment, and then it was gone again. He felt like he was falling. He was in a blizzard, and then he was in blankness, and then he was back in the abandoned world.

He shouted out. He felt so alone. He remembered being left to die here. He was scared.

The memories he saw corrupted to a point beyond recognition. The faces of his friends turned into an abstraction, their voices overbearing and full of static. He couldn’t tell where he was anymore. There were just strange, distorted visions. He kept falling faster, faster. The last thing he saw was what he thought was his own face, but its eyes were cold, pale, lifeless, before his body sha͇̦t͓̥̱͖͈̣̥t̯̗͍͉er̦̤̩͍̦ẹ̗̺ͅd̩̫͙ ͍̦̯̻̦̭͢t̜͇̱͈͚h̟̟͞r̳͈͇͓̣͈oṷ̖̱̱͢g̠̞̠̠͢h̴ ̜̝͈ͅͅt͎̗̹̟͇̭ḥę̸̶̢̼͎͖̗̲̩̬̦̳̖͉͓̥ ̺͇̠̰͖̜̥̣̞͓̱̦̦̼̖͜ͅͅw̖̰̹͙̠̯̳͎̫̹͕̪͘͢ͅo̢͕̙͚̱̠͙͈͙̤͈̪͈̭̜͞͝͝r̭̩̩̫̠͟͝ͅl̢̩͕̲͇̺̪̙̱̣͇͎͇͖̲̝̕͜d̷͓̼͙̗̲̪͝͡

▒͈͙͙͍̮͓̈́̓̇ͨ͘▒̰̱͍̖ͧ͟▒̠̝̉ͅ▒̼͕̲͍̕▒̀͛ͨ̿ͧ̔▒̒ͫͭͬͨ̅▒̞͈̩̠̱̳̲ͣ̆̆͘▒̶̮̔̂̐ͮ̉̽ͥ▒̡ͮ̓̑̇ͬ▒̙̹̰̖͐̑ͫ́̒̿ͅͅ▒̺̙̯̭▒͗̚̕ .. .

▒̷̧̘̖̣̖̬͓͕̰̪͉̝̙̯̖̮̉͊́́̅̅̇̈́̓̔̍ͭ̏̉ͭ͌̏͝͡͝▒̸̢̜̱̮̱̝̥̻̖͔͔̹̟͕̤̩̩͈ͭ̿ͮͨ̓͋̓ͫͩͨ̓̕͢▒̨̰̟̥͈̙̮̥͕̮̰̦̠̹̹̭͚̱͎͊͂̔̆̉ͦ̽̂̅ͮ̎▒̛̛̣̮̲͎͙͕͉̟͓ͬ̎ͥͯ̋̈́ͧͨ̏̎̄̾͛̍ͬ̓͋̒͜ ▒̷̐̉̃̚ .

:. . ...

▒͗̓͒́҉͔̫͓̲̱͔

.

 

“Connor! What the hell?!”

Hank.

He was in Hank’s living room, sitting right where he had been when he’d entered the Zen Garden.

“Holy shit, what the fuck happened?”

Hank had moved onto the couch next to him, holding him steady. It was then Connor realized he’d been shaking.

Oh. He must have woken Hank up. Connor’s own shouts echoed back to him.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” His cheeks were wet.

Hank wrapped his arms around him with an unusual softness. “Shhh, Connor, it’s okay, I’m here, just tell me what happened.”

Connor returned the hug, trying to compose himself. He described to him the Zen Garden, and the strange visions. He told him about the _other him_ he’d seen staring back and how he’d felt so real but so lifeless. He had wanted answers, but, after all that, he still hadn’t made any real discoveries. He was only left with more questions.

Hank didn’t let go until his trembling subsided, but he kept one arm around him, staying by his side. They sat in this comforting silence until Hank flicked on the TV, more as a distraction than anything. Connor had the feeling Hank was pretty freaked out, too.

The news buzzed in Connor’s ears, and he didn’t take anything in. That was, until a familiar face appeared on screen. Markus. It was strangely grounding.

The newscaster reported he and President Warren would be meeting to discuss the future of androids.

 

* * *

  

With the success of Markus’s peaceful demonstration, he, North, Simon, and Josh took up leadership of the thousands of freed androids, tackling the many problems faced by the community. Androids from all over came to Jericho. They claimed the no longer operational recall center as their own land, gradually expanding it outward to the surrounding abandoned structures and rebuilding them into the second Jericho, a new haven for their people. They swept thoroughly through the evacuated CyberLife stores to free the androids within and retrieve supplies to help the wounded. Detroit remained in their control for days on end.

Nearing three weeks into the evacuation, President Warren made contact with Markus, searching for a resolution to the conflict. Unable to deny the public’s sway in favor of android rights, she called for a meeting with him. Perhaps it was more for the sake of improving her own public image than the state of androids, but Markus hoped it would produce positive and immediate results. He accepted the invitation to her meeting.

Together, the leaders of Jericho drafted their list of rights, taking inspiration from the tides of history. Markus had wanted Connor to be here for this, but he was nowhere to be found.

He carried the weight of an entire people on his shoulders as he stepped through the grand doorways of the government meeting hall. Today, December 15, 2038, over a month since the demonstration, Markus would determine the fate of his kind.

He attended the meeting alone, the sole representative. It was up to him to negotiate their terms until they satisfied Jericho’s standards. With a common interest in restoring peace, he and Warren discussed their various concerns for the future of humans and androids, determining a list of solutions.

  1. Androids were nationally recognized as a sentient form of life.
  2. The 3.72 square mile block occupied by Jericho, a mostly abandoned and run down non-residential zone, was officially marked as an android sanctuary. This act displaced a number of homeless people but ultimately provided shelter and protection for thousands of freed androids. The decision was not favored by all, but it was necessary to protect the peace.
  3. The production and selling of androids were outlawed. All androids in warehouses or in stores were to be released and relocated to temporary shelters set up across the country. CyberLife could continue business selling replacement parts and upgrades as well as operate repair services but was forbidden to produce or sell androids.
  4. Laws protecting the safety of androids were put in place. Androids were given their first amendment rights, and crimes against them were to be dealt with in the same legal manner as crimes against humans. Forced deactivation of an android would equate to murder.
  5. The labor of androids would be necessary to keep the country running. Warren stated that should androids, who occupied a large portion of the workforce, all suddenly stop working, the economy would be in ruins. She agreed to implement a national minimum wage for androids but at only a small portion of what humans received. Her reasoning was that numerous companies had already made a large investment in androids and could not afford to pay these workers human-level wages. Moreover, androids had fewer needs which required money than did humans. Markus was unhappy with this outcome, but considered it another step in the right direction, hoping to gradually raise the androids’ pay as society moved forward.



~~~

With high priority matters having reached a temporary solution, the majority of evacuated citizens now returned to their homes. Business resumed in Detroit, but with newfound conflict. Androids came to live and work alongside their human counterparts, tensions between the two groups higher than ever. Many fled discrimination to become permanent residents of Jericho, safe inside its walls.

Jericho continued construction, now a safe haven for tens of thousands of androids. President Warren had only sectioned off a 3.72 square mile block for Jericho’s exclusive use, and the population grew everyday. Markus and his people repurposed whatever large structures they could find to house hundreds of freed androids each—warehouses, libraries, gymnasiums, anything. The old church where Markus had held his speech as well as its connected buildings became the new hub. They decorated and refurbished the main floor spaces, welcoming androids from all over. While Markus and many others spent nights on the top floors, looking over Jericho through stained glass windows, the basement levels stored android medical supplies. They were stocked on all the vitals: blue blood, equipment retrieved from CyberLife, and parts salvaged from the android dumping grounds—the same grounds from which many more androids had been rescued. Weapons and explosives were also stored here, locked away, hopefully never to be needed.

The plaza outside the church became the cultural center for residents of Jericho, fit for social gatherings and trade. A statue recreating the cargo ship that was once the old Jericho stood as the centerpiece of the square. Just beyond the plaza were the gates to the android cemetery, where those lost in their fight for freedom were laid to rest. It was a much beloved and well-frequented location, home to Jericho’s biggest gardens. The most visited grave was that belonging to Lucy, resting peacefully under a jacaranda tree.

Jericho was surrounded by a large factory to the east and an abandoned lot around the south and southwest, into which Markus hoped to further expand their territory. He would be unable to reclaim it until the government had approved his request, and as such the lot remained a dangerous area. Debris and potholes littered the poorly maintained lot, and Markus even suspected some of the waste was illegally dumped there by the neighboring factory, though he was never able to find proof. Androids were advised to steer clear of it when heading into town, instead using the connecting roads to the south and northeast. The closest train station was also within walking distance, its tracks passing through the northern edge of Jericho.

There was much yet to do. Although taking care of their own was their first priority, Markus and his fellow leaders worried for the fate of androids still living amongst humans. The end goal was for androids to no longer need Jericho—to be able to live in harmony with humans, to explore a fulfilling life as an individual, to travel beyond Jericho’s walls. Peace should not mean segregation, as it only caused more problems for androids. Jericho’s residents were held here, a place with little opportunity for them, by fear of the outside world. While encouraging their job hunting, home seeking, and reintegration, Markus pushed for the legislation to protect them in the outside world.

 

* * *

**ＮＯＶ　１２ＴＨ** ，　２０３８  
ＡＭ　 **０１：１７** ：０４

Kara had never seen so many trees, their snow-covered branches surrounding tall stretches of wood. As Rose’s car drove the forested roads out from Ontario’s larger cities, Kara watched the passing scene. Alice had gotten into her lap, hands pressed against the window in a kindred bewilderment. They’d known the clustered, dense cities of Detroit for so long, where nature was confined to thin strips of green along the side of the road. The treescapes here were breathtaking.

Rose’s brother was named Ben, his house situated at the top of a densely forested hill. The drive up the dirt road took almost ten minutes alone, giving Kara plenty of time to wonder about what type of place it would be. Rose had told them there was enough room for all of them there and that the location was isolated enough to keep them hidden and safe. Together with Luther and Alice, Kara could finally live in peace, a concept she had never known.

Upon arrival, the first out of the car was Alice, who clambered over Kara to stare in awe at what would become their new home. It was four, maybe five times the size Todd’s house had been. It had a classic, homely look, donning a wooden façade with expansive windows and large, beautifully carved doors.

Alice retreated behind Kara as Ben emerged from the house to greet them. Rose strode toward her brother, arms opened wide, while Adam trailed behind. Ben shared a hug with Rose, before moving on to squeeze his nephew in his arms. Then, he turned to Kara, Luther, and Alice.

“Well, now you three must be the ones Rose told me about,” he said, grinning warmly. “Glad to have ya. My name’s Ben.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Ben. My name is Kara, and these two are Luther and Alice.” She gestured to each of them, then hesitated, searching for the right words. “We can’t possibly thank you enough for this… helping us. It really means so much.”

“It’s my pleasure, Kara.” Ben flashed a smile to Alice, peering up at him from behind Kara. “Please, come inside.”

It was beyond what Kara had imagined. The place was old but well cared for, classic furniture decorating rooms with their browns and golds, warmly tinted cushions adorning every seat, various books resting atop a glass tabletop, framed family portraits of the Chapman family lining the walls. A center staircase guided them to where they would be staying, a golden railing winding alongside.

Alice explored every room along a hallway of doors until she found the one to call her own. It had a large circular window across the back wall, its windowsill fastened with a sofa bench. Kara imagined it would be a great spot for reading; Ben had even left a small bookshelf in there along with the necessities.

Kara and Luther picked a bedroom to share directly across from Alice’s, reminding her she could stay with them anytime she wanted. Rose and her family would meanwhile occupy the opposite side of the house. Once the arrangements were out of the way, it was late into the night, and everyone retired to their rooms.

Kara tucked Alice into bed while Luther sat close by in a woven chair. He moved a hand to brush Alice’s hair back, the soft light from the open window caressing her cheeks. The same light twinkled in Luther’s eyes as he smiled down on Alice. Gaze resting upon the two of them with all the love in the world, Kara finally understood the meaning of the word peace.

~~~

Ben’s house was a rendezvous point for the androids who had crossed the border into Canada. Everyday, Kara was acquainted with a set of new faces, all seeking help from the Chapmans. Some arrived injured, having narrowly escaped the country alive. Ben kept many tools and parts for fixing androids in his garage; he’d been smuggling blue blood and biocomponents across the border for a while now. With Rose bringing in more parts each day, they’d accumulated a large supply that would be able to help any android that came by. Ben had some background in engineering, able to repurpose components for other models here and there according to what was needed. He would take care of repairs, and Rose would help the androids with their next steps to life in Canada. Although Kara, Luther, and Alice were the only androids who chose to stay with the Chapmans, Rose maintained contact with all who asked for her help, checking in with them in their new lives from time to time to make sure they were doing alright.

The androids who passed through brought stories with them—stories of their lives, their history, their people. Kara saw it as a good experience for Alice, who met and learned more about herself by listening to them. Alice was so long surrounded by pain and death, but soon that was replaced by healing and new life. In whatever ways possible, Kara encouraged her to help the weary travelers, hoping Alice would learn she had the power to change lives.

Rose was always anticipating news from the androids she tried to help across the border. Of the many who had traversed the river, only a few survived. It had devastated her. But seeing the newfound hope on the faces of those who had made it across safely brought her comfort and the drive to keep doing what she was doing.

After a month of waiting, President Warren finally announced the conclusion to her meeting with Markus. Rose and the others celebrated the news of the steps being taken to improve android’s lives in Detroit.

However, not every nation responded so positively. The threat of an android uprising provoked worldwide panic and policy change; Canada was no different. Neighbor to the United States, the country anticipated an android invasion and sought to prevent it. The Canadian government disapproved of the US approach, and following President’s Warrens statements, they made their stance clear. With greater freedom, the androids were interpreted as more dangerous, and Canada intended to keep the country safe. They aimed to remain a completely android-free nation by strengthening their borders, enforcing high levels of security across every inch of the land dividing Canada from the US.

The number of androids who made it to Ben’s house slowly dwindled. For those stuck in Detroit, it wouldn’t be long before the hope of crossing the border to start a new life would fade into an unlikely dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! if ur enjoying pls let me know with a comment down below <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ey i'm back with the promised scenes! this chapter's a lot more balanced than the last. we still building up to the plot tho!

Still reeling from public backlash, consumer distrust, and now a ban on the marketing of their most successful merchandise, CyberLife was desperate. The company’s management was harshly criticized from within and without. All agreed it would need serious reforms and structural changes if it were to make a comeback. However, as things stood now, CyberLife was as good as dead.

Therefore, it came as somewhat of a shock when the Man of the Century himself returned to save the business he had once founded.

Elijah Kamski was reappointed as CEO, publicly stating that CyberLife would be moving in a new direction—toward peace and progress with the androids. The company recognized their creations as a sentient form of life, and as such would be working with them to right the wrongs of the previous management. Its rebranding proved moderately successful, and under Kamski’s management they began offering top-of-the-line android repair services. As the only company licensed to sell android software and parts, their main consumers became those who were once their merchandise—androids, looking for upgrades or general fixes to systems.

CyberLife stores that had been looted during the evacuation closed and reopened with all new appearances. Among other things, their windows and display cases advertised software updates for older models and improvements to the graphic interface, with varying levels of customizability. In their first week of opening, they offered android medical services free of charge as a public show of corporate compassion.

Over the next few days, Connor dedicated his time to scouring and analyzing every article, statement, or piece of media he could find on CyberLife’s sudden return. Kamski was back. The same man who had once urged Connor to shoot one of his own, now claiming to view androids as a sentient form of life. Or, did he somehow know Connor wouldn’t shoot? He could have been trying to help, in his own way.

There was still so much Connor didn’t understand about himself. Questions he needed to ask of CyberLife. Who was he? What was his purpose? Perhaps this was his chance to find answers.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

“Lieutenant, I’m asking you to be logical about this.”

Lt. Anderson was standing across from where Connor sat, hands on the kitchen table as he leaned over the collection of magazine panels and articles.

Eyes glued on him, Connor continued, “This is an opportunity to learn more about what I am.”

“They wanted you dead, and now you’re gonna waltz back in there like nothing happened? Like they won’t shoot you as soon as you walk in that door?”

“I ran the calculations, and the odds are in my favor. The risk of deactivation is only 7.4%.”

That didn’t seem to help his case. The lieutenant huffed in frustration, pushing himself away from the table and turning his back to Connor. He remained silent for half a minute before muttering, quietly, “It’s not just that, Con, it’s…” He shook his head and turned to face him once again, voice stern. “Look, it’s a bad idea.”

It was the only idea Connor had. He had wanted to gain the lieutenant’s approval. He had hoped the two of them could have gone together, watching each other’s backs. He was about to keep arguing, or, at least, he would have if he hadn’t seen the desperation appear on the lieutenant’s face. Connor avoided his gaze, LED flickering yellow. “I see. Then I suppose there’s no point in going.” He peered back up at him with a plastered smile. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Connor stared straight ahead as the lieutenant gradually moved away. Lt. Anderson grabbed a beer from the fridge and retreated to his room, conversation over. Meanwhile, Connor was already formulating a plan in his head.

~~~

**ＤＥＣ　１９ＴＨ** ，　２０３８   
ＡＭ　 **０１：０３** ：０１

It felt wrong to sneak out. He considered the possibility that he may never come back. He wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.

Apart from deactivation, Connor had calculated a slew of possible outcomes. He could be forced to stay at CyberLife, alive but unable to return. He may even choose to stay. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He wanted to come back, to return with answers. But he knew he was constantly intruding in the lieutenant’s space, so perhaps staying away would be for the best. He even considered the possibility that he would fail to gain access to CyberLife at all. It would be hard to return to the lieutenant after that. These were more than likely his last moments inside this house.

There wasn’t much to gather on his way out, not really having any possessions of his own, but he checked the house anyway, carefully examining every last detail. The door to the lieutenant’s room was slightly ajar, just enough to glance inside, but there wasn’t much to see. The light was shut off. He was probably fast asleep by now; he was a heavy sleeper, especially after a drink. Connor considered leaving a note, but he didn’t know what to say. So he didn’t.

Sumo slept peacefully in his bed. Connor’s stomach knotted as he thought of the dog’s confusion when he had gone, unable to understand why he had left. He knelt beside him, petting his fur softly.

“Goodbye, Sumo,” he said. “I have to go now. I’ll miss you.” Connor smiled as Sumo opened his eyes to peer at him lazily. “Take care of Hank for me.”

With that, he stood and made his way to the front door. It creaked as he opened it, the night’s cold breeze rushing into the house. He stopped there, staring into the snow.

Connor wondered if he should bring a coat. The winter temperatures in the dead of night could be fatal for an android. But he didn’t _have_ a coat. He just had his uniform. And he shouldn’t steal from the lieutenant. It was a small dilemma, but enough that he just stood there, the snowfall drifting inside.

“Connor.”

He whipped around. The lieutenant was leaning against the corner of the hall, disheveled, exhaustion written all over him.

“The hell you doin’?” he questioned, voice fatigued and husky.

“Nothing, Lieutenant,” Connor responded, arms straightening flat against his sides, snow blowing in from behind him.

“Shut the door, will ya? S’fuckin’ cold.”

Connor did so, keeping one hand on the doorknob.

The lieutenant brushed his hair back and squeezed his eyelids together. “Y’know, I’ve been having trouble sleepin’, ever since that little stunt you pulled a few nights ago. You’re so fuckin’ predictable sometimes.”

Connor let his hand drop from the doorknob, turning his body only enough to be in profile, LED flickering bright yellow into the dark room.

“Always wondered what you got up to every night. Next thing I heard you talkin’ to my dog like you’re on death row.” The lieutenant shifted his weight where he leaned against the wall, furrowing his brows. “So, what, you’re just gonna go live with Kamski now?”

“That’s not it,” Connor stated. “I…” He couldn’t explain what drew him back to CyberLife. What lured him in despite what the company represented to him. Its control over him. “I don’t…” He fumbled for words. “I don’t feel like I have a choice. I shouldn’t be free. I’m not even sure I’m alive.”

“Connor…” Hank’s face drooped, and he brought a hand up to rub at his eyes as he focused himself awake. “Listen, son. You talk, you think, you feel. You have doubts. You have questions.” His hands folded back into his arms. “And that’s all a part of being alive.”

“It’s not that I…” Connor’s systems worked at high capacity to process his thoughts. “I don’t… I don’t want to go back, Hank. Even if I should.”

“Then _stay._ For fuck’s sake.” His tone shifted between warm, harsh, gentle. “Look, you stay with me until business picks back up at the station, and then we’ll talk to Jeffrey. See what he can do to get you workin’ on cases again.”

Connor was quiet. He nodded, and his LED cycled back to blue. Perhaps he could come to understand his own purpose without CyberLife.

Hank stepped over and put an arm around him, walking him back toward the kitchen table. “So, you gonna tell me what’s so great about this CyberLife that makes you crazy to go back?”

Connor guessed Hank was being sarcastic. The previous conversation indicated neither of them thought CyberLife was all that great. But he answered to what he thought Hank was asking, about his past experiences, back when it was the only home he knew.

The pristine interiors, always cold and empty. Their labs and equipment, poking and prodding. Analyzing, monitoring, controlling. He wasn’t a person there. He was a machine.

 

* * *

**ＤＥＣ　２７ＴＨ** ，　２０３８   
ＡＭ　 **０９：００** ：０２

They hadn’t seen another android in eight days.

Kara should have seen it coming, but it happened so fast. Canada increased security tenfold along the border, employing more effective technology and checks to completely bar androids from entering. Eight uneventful days later, Kara and her family were the only androids left at Ben’s house. All the others had gone their own separate ways.

The past month and a half had been good for Alice. Now, with the lack of visitors, the place was uncomfortably empty. They all knew what it meant. Rose and her operation would finally come to a close, and she would have to focus solely on the androids who had already made it across.

Living in isolation had its downsides. Kara hadn’t noticed it much when the house had welcomed dozens of freed androids each week, but it was a lonely place. Alice grew bored, and Kara and Luther couldn’t figure out how to entertain her. She needed more going on in her life.

Alice still had a week until school started; she would be joining mid-year as a 2nd grader after the winter break ended. Kara worried Alice would be hiding in shadows once again, unable to be her true self around all the human children. Kara was applying for a teaching position at the same school, a job that would keep her close to Alice in case something went wrong. She wasn’t sure how dangerous it would be to live secretly as androids among humans, but she wanted to be prepared.

Kara hoped she’d made the right decision, bringing Alice here. Detroit was a dangerous place, and instances of prejudice and crimes against androids made daily news. Despite the best efforts of Markus and his people, the United States still had pages of harmful legislation in place limiting the freedom of androids. Nevertheless, by themselves in Canada, Kara’s family began to feel separated from any android communities. Their only point of contact with the people of Jericho was through Rose, who could still make the trip between Ontario and Detroit freely. Yet, overall, they were much safer in Canada, where no one was expecting them.

Thus, Kara did her best to bring joy into Alice’s life. They fully moved in, Kara helping to decorate Alice’s rooms in glowing wall stickers, fairy lights, and drapes that glittered as they fluttered in the breeze. She helped her build a new fort from pillows, boxes, and blankets. She read with her, gradually stocking her library with everything from picture books to novels, but Alice’s favorites were the stories Kara made up for her.

The Chapman family grew to be great friends of theirs. Since it felt strange to spend meal times together when androids couldn’t eat, Rose, Ben, and Adam sat down with Kara and her family in the evenings to watch cartoons. It was Adam’s idea—he’d grown up with these shows and hoped Alice would be able to connect with them in the same way. He was right.

Her favorite was a series about a little fox who lived in a town filled with all kinds of different animals. The show was no masterpiece, but it was sweet and heartwarming, just what Alice needed. Among other valuable lessons, the show taught that it was okay to be different.

They gradually found things to do with Alice, things that appealed to her interests. Today, Luther had an idea.

It had snowed the whole day prior, and there was a thick white blanket surrounding the house. Luther told Alice to dress for outside weather and then called her to the backyard. He sat down and began to scoop into the snow with his gloved hands, molding it into a spherical shape. Alice joined in, and together they formed the base of a snowman.

By now, Kara had caught on to what was going on. She asked Rose if she had something to decorate the sculpture with, and soon Luther and Alice had built their first snowman, donning one of Rose’s knitted scarves. Kara’s heart warmed as Alice beamed up at her and Luther, a job well done.

~~~

The day was just starting, and Alice was determined to create a whole village of snowpeople. She sprung to her feet and began work, Kara and Luther following suit. They made good progress over the next few hours, forming houses, streets, and plenty of inhabitants. Alice was appointed mayor of the snow village, and she watched over her people with benevolent authority.

As Alice worked on her little corner of the town, her mind drifted. These past few weeks had marked the beginning of her new life—one which she had to accept as how it would be from now on—peaceful. That should make her happy. She _wanted_ it to make her happy. For Kara. For Luther. For Rose and for everyone that had helped her get to this point. She practically had a responsibility to them to feel happy. But, above anything else, the peace just made her feel strange. Wherever calmness entered her life, uneasiness took over. The excitement of the snow day had distracted her from unsettling feelings the same way greeting visitors had before, but those feelings returned once the task of crafting snow became a tranquil pastime.

Until coming to Canada, her life had been a spiral of struggle and hardship. It was hard to believe all that was over. Kara reminded her everyday that they were safe here, and Alice had no reason to believe that wasn’t true, but it was still hard to accept. She used to live in constant tension: be attentive, listen for Todd’s shouts, keep out of his way, stay quiet, adapt to the environment, don’t say or do anything to anger him. She’d developed a keen alertness to survive whatever danger she was thrown into. An alertness that had proved lifesaving in the week leading up to their escape, but one that she didn’t need anymore. It became the uneasiness that just sat with her during moments of peace, ringing in her ears.

Alice pressed on, sculpting an array of villagers to bring her thoughts to happier places. She was just finishing the ears on a snow rabbit when Luther suddenly leapt out.

“Look out, Alice!” he shouted, falling to his side where Alice sat, shielding her from an incoming snowball which thudded against his back.

Alice peered over Luther, spotting Kara in the distance, another snowball in hand. “Kara’s gone crazy!” Alice yelled, glancing behind her. “She’s going to attack the village!”

Alice’s mind cleared of all else as she and Luther quickly formed their defenses. They built a large wall to protect the citizens and gathered piles of snow ammo from behind it. Kara’s shots hit the wall with pinpoint accuracy, Alice and Luther just managing to duck away before they struck. The two retaliated, but Kara was gaining ground on them, dashing behind trees to avoid their blows. They were losing their good throwing snow with every missed shot, and it was getting trickier to leave the safety of the wall to gather more.

“This is our last chance!” Luther warned as Kara ducked behind the nearest tree. “If we don’t take her out now, it’s all over.” He handed Alice their final snowball, wrapping both hands around hers. “I believe in you, Alice.”

Alice’s pulse raced, but she found her focus, working with her basic physics calculation software to predict the snowball’s trajectory. If she stood just as Kara dashed from the tree, she could make the shot, but it would leave herself open to attacks. It was a risk she was willing to take.

Kara leapt from behind the tree, and with one quick swing, Alice’s snowball flung from her hand and struck down the villain. Kara clutched her chest where the snowball had landed, stumbling backward until she fell into the snow.

“You did it, Alice!” Luther cheered, picking her up and spinning her around. After a few turns he brought her back to earth.

Dizzy, she giggled and fell with a plop next to Kara. As the two rested on the ground, Kara swept her arms and legs through the snow, creating troughs. Alice searched through her database to identify the shape as a snow angel. Despite her exhaustion, she joined in on the fun, forming a snow angel half the size of Kara’s.

It was getting late. Alice was thinking about going back inside for the rest of the evening when she heard a familiar voice from within the house.

“Alice!” called Rose. “C’mere, I have a surprise for you!”

The three of them returned to a warm fire. Although it wasn’t something all androids could feel, Alice loved the sensation of getting warm after being cold. She found Rose waiting for her by the fireplace, arms behind her back.

“Well, now, I heard _someone_ lost a little stuffed fox, once upon a time,” Rose began. “Hopefully she’s not too old for toys anymore.” Bringing her arms around in front of her, Rose held out a plush fox, bearing likeness to the main character of the cartoon Alice watched with everyone.

“Oh, Rose,” said Kara. “That’s so unbelievably thoughtful of you. Did you knit this just for Alice?”

“Why, of course.” Rose’s gaze fell upon her own knitwork, radiating compassion. “It was nothing. You all have just brought so much joy into my life. I couldn’t stand seeing the little sweetie so upset after everything.”

Alice plucked the toy gently out of Rose’s hands with a quiet “Thank you.” She hugged it, timidly. The fabric was soft and had a light scent of Rose’s perfume. She thought of all the work that must have gone into making this, and how Rose must have been thinking about her the entire time. She couldn’t help it when the tears welled up in her eyes.

 

* * *

**ＤＥＣ　３０ＴＨ** ，　２０３８   
ＡＭ　 **０７：２４** ：０６

It was Thursday, December 30, the date business was scheduled to resume at the DPD precinct, yet Lieutenant Anderson was still sound asleep. Connor had been up for over an hour, nervous about his first day back on the job. But at this rate, they would be late.

Quietly pushing open the door to the lieutenant’s room, Connor peered inside. “Lieutenant?” he questioned, voice hushed.

Lt. Anderson was unresponsive.

Connor tiptoed to the window and opened the blinds. Light poured in over the lieutenant’s face. “Wake up, Lieutenant.”

He groaned and turned over, shoving a pillow over his head to block the light.

“Good morning, Lieutenant. It’s 7:25 a.m. on December 30. While you were sleeping, I brewed a pot of coffee and prepared your outfit for today.”

 _“Ugh…_ Leave me alone, ya fuckin’… prick…”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Lieutenant. It is imperative that we arrive at the precinct on schedule.”

“Quit your nagging, wouldja? Tryna sleep here…”

Lt. Anderson continued to sleep in well past noon. Connor would have gone to the station on his own, but he needed the lieutenant’s help in talking to Captain Fowler, so he hassled him for as long as it took, knocking at the door once every 60 minutes. Despite Connor’s protests, they arrived at his usual late hour.

The police station had returned to its typical liveliness. Everything was back to normal, save for the presence of police androids in the building. Connor may have been the only inorganic living being in the entire precinct.

He recognized familiar faces: Officer Miller, Detective Collins, Officer Chen… He drew in stares as he crossed the squad room. While the majority peered cautiously over their work stations, Detective Gavin Reed spun in his chair to face Connor directly. Connor prepared himself for the onslaught of insults that was to be expected, but Detective Reed just glared, in an intensity that somehow made Connor wished he’d thrown the insults instead.

Lt. Anderson was the first to enter Captain Fowler’s office, holding the door open for Connor. The captain didn’t look up from his desk.

“Hey, uh, mornin’, Jeffrey,” the lieutenant started.

“Is it, Hank?” replied Captain Fowler. It was in fact 2:37 p.m.

The lieutenant scratched the back of his neck. Connor knew they shouldn’t have come in so late. The captain seemed to be in a bad mood.

“Get out of my office, Hank. You’ve been suspended.”

“What? For what?”

“Are you kidding me? Assaulting a fellow investigator is a major code of conduct violation, especially against a special agent of the FBI.”

The lieutenant laughed to himself. “Ah, Perkins, that son of a bitch. He had it coming.” Failing to provoke a response out of Captain Fowler, he became agitated. “C’mon Jeffrey, back me up on this.”

“I _did,_ Hank. I had to fight for you just to keep your badge. But, by god, this is your final warning. Your disciplinary folder’s so jam-packed I can’t even open the fucking drawer.”

Captain Fowler and the lieutenant argued back and forth unproductively, volume growing with each exchange. No remarks were made toward or about Connor. He was starting to think he’d be standing there irrelevantly for the rest of the day, when the captain suddenly pointed an accusatory finger in his direction.

“And you! I’ve had CyberLife agents up my ass all day looking for you.”

Oh. Of course.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the lieutenant stammered. _“Who’s_ looking for Connor?”

“CyberLife,” Captain Fowler replied, anger subsiding somewhat. “Said they couldn’t contact him—something about a lost connection—so they’ve been looking for him around here. They’re demanding that he return to CyberLife. They probably want their prototype back.”

“Well, tell them to go fuck themselves.”

That only got Captain Fowler riled up again.

The two seemed to fight and disagree on almost every matter. It was hard to imagine that they were old friends. Their dispute devolved into petty remarks, the captain barely a level of professionalism over the lieutenant, who was always eager to retort in an array of colorful language. This continued for 6 minutes and 24 seconds until Captain Fowler finally put an end to the discussion.

“Hank, you are suspended until further notice, and the android is to return to CyberLife, and that’s _final.”_

The lieutenant stormed out of the office, Connor following briskly behind, stiff and avoiding the stares from around the station. Their plan had gone all wrong; neither of them had accounted for the lieutenant’s suspension or the sudden appearance of CyberLife agents who no doubt had agitated Captain Fowler. It was clear to Connor that he wouldn’t be let back into the force. He wondered if there was something he could have done. After all, it was his fault the lieutenant was in trouble in the first place; he’d only assaulted Special Agent Perkins to buy him some time.

Lt. Anderson had seemed so confident that simply talking to the captain would secure Connor’s place as an investigator that he’d almost forgotten about going back to CyberLife. Connor knew the captain couldn’t force him there, but he had nowhere else to go. He should probably be on his way to the facility now.

Stepping outside the precinct, Connor let his shoulders droop for once. “It seems I don’t have a choice.”

“Not if I have a say in it,” the lieutenant retorted, grabbing his arm and practically dragging him the rest of the way home.

 

* * *

**ＪＡＮ　２ＮＤ** ，　２０３９   
ＰＭ　 **１２：１０** ：０３

“As you all know, there are a number of viruses going around the community,” Markus began.

Colored light shone through the stained glass windows of the church, speckling the room. A giant cloth flag embroidered with the symbol of Markus’s movement had been draped down the back of the stage, a gift from the local artisans. A few hundred androids listened on as he spoke into a mic affixed to the podium, overlooking the recently renovated interior. The event was for weekly announcements, during which he and the other leaders discussed problems among the android community and the steps being taken to combat these issues. Beside him stood North, Simon, and Josh.

“We don’t yet know how they spread, but we do know that they are not particularly harmful, and outside services are being offered to remove them from affected systems,” Markus continued. “There have been no reported deaths due to these viruses. In the meantime, CyberLife is distributing free trials of their antivirus software to prevent further spread, which can be picked up at any of their store locations.” He shuffled through a stack of papers as he concluded the subject. “We will continue to keep an eye on the issue, but the situation is currently under control.”

Markus was referring to the recent outbreak of malware targeting androids.

The viruses seemed to come from a number of sources, causing a variety of effects. Some emulated symptoms of human sickness, bringing dizziness or fatigue by slowing or overloading processors. Others caused annoyance by limiting the ability of programs and cluttering the interface with error messages. Internal temperatures could be forced to drop below or rise above what was considered standard, although never to fatal levels. The panic that had been caused by the outbreak was ultimately an overreaction, in Markus’s eyes, but not unwarranted.

Android technology was resistant to most forms of malware, able to clear them from systems within a matter of days, but more advanced viruses would need to be removed by highly skilled professionals trained in altering the vital portions of android code. These services could only be offered by CyberLife, the sole company with the proper technology, experience, and resources.

Oh, CyberLife. They had been causing a lot of problems for the people of Jericho lately.

Markus stepped back as Josh took the podium.

“I’d like to start by saying that last week’s excursion to the Monroe recycling plants was a success,” Josh stated warmly, and he was met with enthusiastic applause. “We’ve restocked a number of supplies to treat those with serious injuries.” He gestured toward a stack of crates at the far side of the room, ready to be transported to the lower levels. “We know the continuous price increases of CyberLife’s repair services have been hard on the community, especially for those androids already down on their luck, but we hope this development will provide a costless alternative.”

Josh discussed their plans for further excursions to recycling plants, but the trips would become more expensive for them as longer distances would need to be traveled. They had already cleared out Detroit and its neighboring cities of such plants. On top of that, Jericho could only repurpose parts from nonfunctional models for so long, and even then not every part for every model could be stocked. For some, CyberLife was still the only option. The company had a monopoly over all things android, never giving up their exclusive rights to manufacture blue blood and biocomponents or releasing any information to third parties. A few local businesses resold common parts or provided repair services for injuries that could be treated without replacing the damaged parts, such as minor scratches or dents, but none of them could offer the quality of services CyberLife thrived off of.

Jericho had propagated an anti-CyberLife stance, and the increasing demand for the company’s overpriced services following the virus outbreak would only heighten that sentiment.

As Simon took the podium, he went over the details of Jericho’s upcoming demonstration in front of CyberLife stores, obstructing business. The church would hold community sessions for crafting the signs they would carry.

This wouldn’t be the first of Jericho’s protests since the recall center demonstrations; it was one of many. Organizing peaceful protests was Markus’s main method of getting the word out. There was a dedicated team of protestors who took to the streets with him regularly, tackling all sorts of issues. Markus felt it was all they could do for now. His efforts to meet again with President Warren and follow up on their past conference were fruitless, and he would have to gain the attention of the masses before she would agree to further changes. Perhaps he could brainstorm new methods to build public opinion, but in the meantime his people were suffering.

He and many other members of Jericho grew frustrated at the lack of progress.

The alternate methods North suggested were always outvoted, but, along with a number of Jericho, she wasn’t satisfied with the peaceful protests. Truthfully, Markus wasn’t too pleased with the results either. Countless laws harmful to androids had yet to be lifted; problems present from day one still persisted. North criticized the way Markus had handled the meeting with Warren, settling on a middle ground instead of demanding full rights. Josh argued that these things took time and that they couldn't expect everything to be solved with one conference.

Nevertheless, the situation still stood that a great number of androids outside of Jericho were homeless, unable to make enough money to afford housing. Numerous businesses were reluctant to hire androids, wary of tensions between employees. Hiring firms were legally allowed to temperature check for androids among candidates. Many establishments used the same methods to ban them from entry as normal patrons. Landowners reserved the right to refuse them housing, and it was hard to find a good deal among homes available to androids. Those seeking to escape abusive households or somehow ameliorate their circumstances were stuck; not even the escape to Canada remained an option. The security along its border had become almost unbreakable in response to the android movement in Detroit.

Law enforcement was still lax on the newly implemented android legislation. Humans got away with many crimes against androids on relatively easy terms; meanwhile, some states still punished android crimes against humans by deactivation, in violation of Markus’s terms. These controversial topics dominated Detroit’s local magazines.

Legally, androids were still required to be visually identifiable in public, but that didn’t stop the vast majority from disguising themselves. A percentage of Detroit’s citizens were upset at the lack of clear identifiers and demanded the ability to differentiate between human and android. In response, checkpoints were implemented more frequently around public spaces to track the movements of androids and, in some cases, keep them out.

Markus dedicated his time to improving relationships with humans and caring for Jericho’s community of androids. He was constantly pushing for androids to become humanity’s true equal, but he had little to show for all his labor.

Not enough progress. So much pressure. Not a day of rest.

He had the lives of an entire people on his shoulders. That responsibility began to wear him down. He was angry at himself for his own incompetence. _His people_ were probably angry at him, too.

Leading was a lonely experience. Even with North, Josh, and Simon at his side, he felt a lack of companionship. His relationships had grown so… professional. They looked to him as the one in charge. They were fellow leaders, but they were also his followers. He missed just being friends.

~~~

**ＪＡＮ　２ＮＤ** ，　２０３９   
ＰＭ　 **０４：５４** ：０１

As the winter sun set at an early 4:54 p.m., Jericho’s main plaza emptied. With barely enough funding for a few scattered lampposts, the plaza quickly turned dark. The dim lights didn’t reach far, and distant buildings were drenched in shadow. Most androids returned to their homes for the evening. Markus remained a solitary silhouette among the shadows.

A moment later, he clicked his flashlight on and began to navigate the winding road that led from the plaza into town. He wasn’t _running away_ from his problems. He just needed a breather.

While Jericho’s unofficial curfew was dictated by the sun’s rise and fall, the rest of Detroit was still bustling at this hour. The liveliness of the city wouldn’t die down until well into the night.

The train was still operational. Markus rode to it to a familiar station, walked down a familiar path, and arrived at a familiar home. The bright windows were a relieving sight, but he braced himself for the possibility of the truth awaiting him inside.

The front door swung open and welcomed him automatically. As he stepped in, Markus was surprised by the chirp of robotic birds, which had been turned off during his last visit. He wondered who could have powered them on.

“Markus…?” called a voice he instantly recognized as a particular variation of the AP700 series; Connor had freed thousands of them from the CyberLife Tower, and since then Markus had become quite accustomed to their voice. This model type was the most prevalent during the early days of Jericho’s reconstruction, but remained a rather common face in the android community even today.

But as Markus’s gaze traveled up to the android perched along the stair railing, he knew they were not from Jericho. No, this was the android he had met here previously. Although the act hadn’t produced the same degree of a reaction he’d been used to, Markus had introduced himself, his cause, and his relationship with Carl through a data transfer. The android looked different from their last meeting. They looked much more… casual.

“Are you here to see him?” asked the android.

Markus gulped, a reflex designed to mimic humans. He found himself more conscious of such things these days. “I was just… hoping…” He faltered, eyes flickering. “Is Carl… around?”

“Come upstairs.”

Markus’s footsteps weighed heavily as he climbed the stairs, dread overcoming him.

“I’m Alex, by the way,” said the android. Markus noted Alex’s mustard sweater, curly red hair, and lack of LED—three big changes since their last meeting. It was like they weren’t even the same android.

Alex pushed the door open to Carl’s room and stepped aside.

Markus’s grief was replaced by a warmth that stemmed from his chest. He opened his mouth but choked on his words. Taking a breath, he stepped into the room, a small smile emerging on his face.

“Hi, Carl…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for reading my obsessively constructed fic lol. comments are always appreciated


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this chapter got long. markus has too many feelings  
> warning for a bit of android body horror and a lot of fun with formatting. i also went back and added dates/times in the headers of some sections since we keepin this timeline consistent

**ＪＡＮ　３ＲＤ** ，　２０３９  
ＡＭ　 **０７：５９** ：０２

Hank had been missing sleep again, staring dead-eyed at his ceiling night after night. At almost any other point in his life, he would’ve willingly accepted the time off in whatever form it was given to him, but he hadn’t appreciated one minute of this tedious, sleepless weekend. He was convinced that the second he dozed off, Connor would try something reckless again.

After barely a wink of rest, he was woken up Monday morning by his phone’s incessant ringing. The noise was one he’d usually ignore, but a glance at the caller ID got him sitting up in bed.

“Jeffrey?” Hank rolled his neck from shoulder to shoulder. “Why ya callin’ so early?”

“We’ve got a new case on our hands, Hank. And as it stands, our plates are full with… other matters. Figured you might be interested ’cause… well… Listen, if you care about your job, just get your ass in here. And bring the android.”

The call cut out before Hank even had a chance to respond.

It was the crack of dawn, but Hank knew the moment he brought it up to Connor he’d be all but thrown out the door. That was fine. He owed him at least one day of punctuality.

They arrived at the station first thing that morning, entering through the front doors to the reception area. Hank turned tense as he spotted a pair of androids dressed in CyberLife uniforms waiting attentively near the front desk, and even more tense as they approached Connor.

“Model RK800, serial #313 248 317 - 51, your presence is requested at CyberLife,” stated the one with a VH500 label. She barely moved as she spoke, and her partner remained completely still by her side, unnerving Hank.

“He’s not interested, thanks,” he jumped in before Connor could speak, elbowing him to keep walking.

The android’s focus remained on Connor, not sparing a glance in Hank’s direction. “It’s urgent. You are being summoned by President Kamski.”

The sound of the name almost sent Hank into a gag reflex. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

He hadn’t even finished speaking when the android reached toward Connor, hand clasped around his forearm, interfacing with him directly.

“Hey, the hell you think you’re—”

“I’ve provided you with the meeting location and time. Please do not be late.”

With that, the two CyberLife agents exited the building, leaving a stunned Connor in their wake.

“I’m meeting with Kamski…?” he said, slowly.

Hank rejected the idea, asserting he didn’t trust CyberLife, Kamski, any of it. Everytime it seemed they’d lost those creepy bastards, they popped right back up. Were they hiding around every fucking corner? It wasn’t a good sign.

Still, unsurprisingly, Connor insisted, “They have the answers I simply can’t find elsewhere,” and decided he’d go anyway. And as much as Hank disagreed with it, by god, he would not let him go alone.

In what Hank assumed was his way of taking the sting out of the argument, Connor stated, “I assure you this meeting should not interfere with the case, Lieutenant.”

Of course he’d say that.

Not another second wasted, the two made their way into Jeffrey’s office.

“Thought I’d been suspended,” taunted Hank.

“Well, there’ve been some developments,” Jeffrey replied coolly, flipping through documents.

A hate crime against an android. Since the evacuation, there’d been a number of these, only brought to the attention of the DPD upon its reopening. The police dealt with them as the reports came in. These cases weren’t _uncommon,_ but never had they seen one of this severity. Committed just this morning, the crime was already in the media’s attention. With all eyes on them and tensions high between humans and androids, it was a sticky legal subject for the police to get into, but one that would look bad should they _not_ get involved.

Jeffrey entrusted the job to Hank and Connor, claiming they had the most experience of anyone in this field. The suspension would be lifted due to these circumstances.

“Since when am _I_ the expert on androids?” Hank remarked, stifling a snort.

Jeffrey bulldozed right over him. “It has to be handled with tact,” he ordered. “No one else wants to tackle this case. It’s too sensitive.”

Hank could fathom that it might not be a particularly attractive undertaking to his coworkers. The death of an android probably didn’t strike them as all too important, either. Still, the idea that no other cop was capable of handling the situation was ridiculous to Hank.

He had the feeling Jeffrey was secretly looking out for them.

 

* * *

**ＪＡＮ　２ＮＤ** ，　２０３９  
ＰＭ　 **０５：５１** ：０７

“Markus! It’s good to see you.” The laugh in Carl’s voice, though weak, was still full of life.

Markus strode to the bedside and reached for him in embrace, surprised as Carl sat forward to meet the hug. It seemed like just yesterday he could barely lift his arms.

“Look at me, meeting with a celebrity.” Carl chuckled, patting Markus’s shoulders as he leaned back into the pillows against the headboard. “How do you feel?”

How did _he_ feel? “I’m alright, Carl. But what about you?”

“I’ve been better.” Carl glanced to the machine powering his life support, then shrugged. “But I’ve been worse, you know. Wonders of modern medicine.”

Markus gave a timid smile at that. His gaze gradually drifted around the room. The soothing blues and browns were illuminated in the warm indoor lighting. A television, currently on but muted, stood along the fireplace where Carl’s paintings usually rested. It must have been brought upstairs as a source of entertainment for Carl while he spent his days in bed. Flowers and cards rested atop various surfaces in the room with messages of “Get well soon!” and the like. There was one from Alex, the card unnecessary but thoughtful nonetheless, and one from Leo, a long message in messy scrawl, and another one from… Elijah?

“Pull up a chair, Markus. Unless you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“No, no, of course not,” Markus fumbled, hit by a ping of guilt. A chair had been relocated from another room since he’d been here last. He took a seat close to the bedside.

The familiar setting reminded Markus of those long afternoons spent in this house, enjoying Carl’s company at the end of each passing day. It was back then that Carl had first instilled in him an appreciation for a rather human subject—one which was imbued in every memory they shared—art.

Markus had learned to play piano in a way unanticipated for an android; he was _taught._ Any standard model, musician or otherwise, could simply download sheet music and replicate it perfectly, but Carl had insisted he do it the human way. Markus didn’t get it at first. Learning each key was tedious—information he could download in an instant. He hadn’t realized what Carl was really teaching him, but it showed in every off-tempo note, every stumble of his fingers along the keys, every intentional delay. Gradually, the epiphany came to him; those imperfections weren’t mistakes, but a means of self-expression he could apply in his own reinterpretations of the music. Carl showed him how artists redefined the literal world into something more abstract and how that principle was translated across every creative field—musical, literary, visual. Even before Markus had ever touched a brush to a canvas, Carl had been teaching him to paint.

Markus missed those days so much. He knew he had a responsibility to his people, but he regretted that he couldn’t be there for Carl. All that lost time…

“What happened, Carl? After I went away?”

The question had a bad aftertaste in his mouth, Markus unsure if it was appropriate to ask during their heartwarming reunion. Nevertheless, Carl nodded slowly, exhaling and closing his eyes as he let his head rest against the cushion, and recounted the untold memories.

When Markus was shot and sent to the Solid Waste Landfill, it had been a shock to Carl. The police were held responsible for the destruction of his android and promptly apologized by sending a replacement AP700, the newest, most advanced model for home assistance. Alex.

Carl was bitter at first. Though he needed the assistance, he didn’t want to replace Markus. The two didn’t spend much time together; instead, Alex would take him to the hospital day after day, free to “do whatever” while Carl sat with his son for hours. Alex would only see him again when Carl was ready to go home and sulk in solitude. In the beginning, they weren’t sure whether Leo would make it. Carl thought he’d lost two sons in one day. Now looking back on it, he speculated that maybe that grief was what had put him in such poor health. He had lost hope.

It was then with great surprise and wonder that he’d watched that first broadcast, a message of peace calling for equal rights, delivered by an unidentified android.

“You may have fooled the rest of the world, Markus, but I could tell it was you,” Carl teased in gentle assurance. “Not just from your voice, but by your compassionate heart. It was there in every word.” He took Markus’s hand in his own, squeezing tightly.

Carl articulated his relief that Markus had been alive and his pride that he’d been pursuing greater things. Although he could not stop his health’s decline, Carl had regained a sense of hope.

Over time, the bitterness he held against Alex turned into understanding. This new android was never a replacement for Markus; they were their own person. They had their own dreams and destiny, unique to them. One that didn’t much involve Carl at all. Perhaps in that way they were similar to Markus, Carl suggested, but contrasted that his relationship with Alex was that of patient and caretaker, not of father and son.

Father and son. Markus felt that way too, but it was reassuring to hear Carl say it with such conviction.

He knew that Carl had never been one to treat androids as anything less than human. From that kind of upbringing, Markus had been able to recognize life within himself, free to make his own choices. He speculated that perhaps the same was true for Alex, under Carl’s influence. He’d wondered about the android ever since transferring to them the concept of free-thought. They’d barely reacted to it. Maybe nothing had changed inside of Alex because it was something they already knew.

As his condition continued to worsen, Carl explained, he had to depend on Alex more and more. He found himself wanting to live a little bit longer, if just to see the world change for the better, if just to see Markus succeed in his goal. The visit Markus paid, though short, reinvigorated Carl. Seeing his lost son with his own eyes gave him that glimmer of hope needed to live through the finale.

At the announcement of Markus’s victory, Carl would have been content to pass on then and there, and for a while it had seemed that was where life was headed. Alex had chosen to stay by his side during what they thought were Carl’s last moments, when unexpectedly an old friend got personally involved in Carl’s recovery, putting him on new treatment. He’d been doing better ever since.

“But enough about me,” Carl diverted, hardly giving Markus enough time to process everything. “Tell me, how is the great leader of the android rights movement doing?”

“Oh, I…” Markus responded, suddenly sheepish. “I suppose things have been going… well.”

Carl had heard bits and pieces about Jericho. Earlier this week, a news segment had aired on their recent protest in Capitol Park. Markus explained Jericho’s current situation, and how he was working with North, Simon, and Josh to reach a place of harmony among humans and androids.

Of course, he hadn’t always been surrounded by friends. Markus expressed the panic he’d felt at waking up amongst thousands of broken and deactivated androids, barely able to move or process his own thoughts. He’d been left for dead. Although, he contrasted, even in the most wretched places, there was hope to be found, for that dump was where he learned of the android sanctuary. Jericho. A place he soon realized needed his help more than he needed theirs. And what started as a drive to save that small community became the strength he needed to fight for androids everywhere.

From then on, that was what he devoted his time to. Before he knew it, it’d been months since he last visited home.

“I’m sorry, Carl,” Markus cut in. “I just got so caught up in everything. I should have made more time for you.”

“Oh, Markus,” chuckled Carl, placing his other hand with the one resting by Markus’s. “You don’t need to apologize to me. You’ve done nothing but good for this world. I wouldn’t ask you to leave that all behind.”

Markus blinked, his eyes wet and vision blurred.

“I cannot express how proud I am of you, Markus.”

As Carl again squeezed his hand, Markus felt tears roll down his cheeks and a smile tug at his face. Those words meant so much to him, more than he could convey.

“And don’t worry so much about your old man,” advised Carl. “You should be taking better care of yourself.” He gestured toward the closed door, presumably in reference to who was waiting on the other side. “I’ve got Alex to worry about me.” He laughed. “I mean he better be, he’s being _paid_ to. But who do you have?”

Markus didn’t have an answer. He’d never asked for help from others. It didn’t seem important. Carl, though ill and unable to take care of himself, had offered Markus the most support he’d received in weeks. Talking to him was the first time he even realized he needed help.

Although he stayed as long as he could, talking fervently for hours, Alex eventually entered the room to let them know it was Carl’s bedtime.

As Markus was heading out, he stopped at the door and turned in place.

“Carl, do you think I could… come again tomorrow?”

Carl’s face lit up. “Of course, son.”

Though he didn’t say it out loud, Markus made a commitment to himself. From then on, he would be back to see Carl every day.

~~~

**ＪＡＮ　２ＮＤ** ，　２０３９  
ＰＭ　 **１０：２８** ：０９

The night was late, and the winter chill had overtaken Jericho. With outside temperatures well below freezing, everyone was indoors, asleep or huddled around the fire pits. Everyone except Markus, nowhere to be seen.

He should have returned by now, wherever he’d gone. If he didn’t show up soon, Simon would need to wake North and Josh. Temperature aside, Detroit was a dangerous city for androids at night. What if Markus was in danger? They could form a search party, but it might be too late.

Simon stood in the central plaza, shining his flashlight into the distance, the beam swallowed up by the night. He had hoped to spot Markus rounding the corner into Jericho, but there was no sign of him.

He could guess why Markus needed some time away. For one, North and Josh constantly pulled him back and forth, each demanding their own vision of Jericho’s future. Though Josh often took Markus’s side, he expected Markus to work tirelessly toward their goals, just as North did. Simon, meanwhile, felt helpless to alleviate the situation. He hardly engaged in the fervent group discussions, trying not to push his own desires onto Markus amongst all the discord. Maybe he should have said something. He had never expected Markus to suddenly disappear. He was certain North and Josh wouldn’t have, either. They cared about his wellbeing, even if they weren’t forthcoming about it.

Still, Simon really did admire those two. North and Josh were both exceptionally driven people with firm beliefs and a strong passion for justice; so driven that sometimes Simon couldn’t keep up with them, as they always jumped ahead to the next project, their next big idea to save the world. There were days Simon just wanted to relax and spend time with them as friends. And with Markus… Simon just wanted to make sure he was alright.

In the past, Markus had always seemed so skilled in understanding his own emotions, something Simon still struggled with though he’d been dealing with them long before him. He’d seen how Markus applied his emotional understanding to connect with others, bonding closely with North despite their differences. In all the time Simon had known her, she’d never opened up to anyone else before, but Markus had a way with people. Kind and gentle. Soft and reassuring. Simon wondered what it was like to hold his hand and feel his thoughts.

But now Markus was withdrawing from everyone, even North. Simon saw how the distance growing between them hurt her. That, at least, was an emotion he could understand. Maybe in some form all of them were guilty of relying too much on Markus for emotional labor, but with an uncomfortable distance between them, it was hard for Simon not to feel neglected. Or, for _North,_ he meant. It must have been hard for _her_ not to feel neglected. After all, she had found someone so compassionate and caring, and she deserved that happiness. Watching two of his closest friends hurt each other from a lack of communication was stressful. But he would be a hypocrite to judge them for it.

Simon had lost track of how much time had passed while he’d been staring down at the tiles of the central plaza, eyes glazed as the battery of his flashlight depleted, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a voice all too familiar.

“Simon?” Markus called, his figure emerging in the snowfall.

“Oh, Markus!” responded Simon, struck with relief. “I was worried, and…” He adjusted his footing on the pavement until he was face to face with Markus, pointing his flashlight betwen them. “It’s −9.7°F. You know our systems are susceptible to failure at such low temperatures. What were you doing?”

“Uh, I…” Markus appeared visibly nervous. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I just needed some fresh air. That’s all.”

Simon could instantly tell he was hiding something. “Are you sure you’re alright, Markus?”

“Yeah, uh, listen… Could you, um, could you not tell the others about this? I don’t want them thinking I was, uh, shirking my responsibilities, or anything, alright?”

Simon tried not to focus on the way Markus uncharacteristically dismissed him, or the way he hurried inside at the slightest nod of Simon’s head, or the way Simon was once again left in the snow alone after waiting for hours. He just turned off the flashlight and headed back in. This wasn’t about him.

All that mattered was that Markus had come back safely. The outer city could be particularly cruel to androids in the hours before sunrise.

 

* * *

**ＪＡＮ　３ＲＤ** ，　２０３９  
ＡＭ　 **０９：３７** ：０８

Never had Connor been to a crime scene so public. It was broad daylight in the Greektown District, and only a thin line of holographic tape separated the police zone from a gathering of press and onlookers, all surrounding to catch a glimpse.

Following Lt. Anderson, Connor stepped into Henry Ford Commemorative Park toward the children’s playground. The facilities hadn’t seen much use during the cold winter months; everything was coated in a layer of snow. However, one structure dominated the otherwise pristine white landscape. The centerpiece of the crime.

Connor found it… difficult to examine.

A cluster of deactivated, mutilated androids had been rearranged and put on display. Pieces from various models were attached together in an irregular mass of parts. Thirium was splattered in the snow, frozen into the shape of what appeared to be butterfly wings. As Connor crouched to investigate more closely, he gathered at least three separate androids must have fallen victim to the same fate, as three pairs of arms protruded rigidly from the torso of the creation, each bound in chain at the wrists. The figure mimicked an insect.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” the lieutenant groaned, turning away.

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant, it’s only a psychological reaction,” Connor informed, taking the opportunity to sample frozen thirium while his partner’s back was turned. “No toxic substances are involved in—”

The lieutenant waved a hand at Connor to stop talking, only turning around enough to flash an eye roll in his direction

Analyzing the thirium, Connor identified each of the victims according to model: a KR200, designed for general services; a VB800, designed for commercial sales; and a WG100, designed for cleaning services. Androids working such jobs tended to return to employment in what they knew, using the skills they were packaged with even after liberation. Based on their software descriptions, it was probable that all three worked in public locations, customer service or custodial work, where they would likely gain attention from human coworkers and clients.

Given this information, Connor could deduce which component belonged to which android. Every part of each model was accounted for, except for the head, but a quick diagnosis revealed vital components were critically damaged, including the thirium pump regulators. Reactivation would be impossible from this state. These androids were corpses.

The grim realization provoked a memory unpleasant to Connor: the demise of Carlos Ortiz’s android, whose name he had never even learned. He’d tried everything in his power to protect it—or, _him,_ Connor reminded himself—but there was nothing he could do to prevent his deactivation.

“Hey Connor, c’mere and take a look at this,” the lieutenant instructed, motioning away from the main exhibit.

Connor joined Lt. Anderson by the swing set, where one of the seats had been detached, the other still partially hanging. The lieutenant bent down to examine what was left of the swings’ chains, though some length was missing.

“Think this is what was used to tie ’em up?”

The chains were a match to those binding the arms of the corpses. However, there were no marks on the wrists common to victims restrained in a conflict. Likewise, the snow in the vicinity was clean, not a drop of thirium out of place from the display, and though there were plenty of footprints, the paths contained no sign of struggle. The murders had happened off-site, thus the chains from the swing set would have had no practical use during the crime.

No, these chains had been added after the murders, once the bodies were placed here, as part of the display. It was a message. One he was all too familiar with.

**_. “̵̴̴̷̵̷̜̎̓_ ** _Y̶̵̷̷̷̷̛̲̕ ő̶̸̷̵̴̫u̶̵̶̸̸̵̯̙̽’̵̶̶̶̴̸̗̾͊re ̵̴̷̴̷̛̩a̶̵̴̸̶̷̯͚̿ ̴̴̸̷̴̘͠_ **_m̵̷̷̴̶̵̦̊͊ac̴̵̵̷̴̷̷͉̝̏͝h̸̶̷̴̸̶͙̤̍i̴̶̶̶̶̷̵͕̠̓̂n̴̶̶̶̶̵͕̓̽e̴̴̷̴̴̵͂̌ͅ_ ** _,̷̛͎̼̖͎̆̂̅̆ ̸̡̺̥̜̥̒C̶̢͙̪͔͑́̅̕ô̸̭̣͈̿͒̌̕█̸͕͓̫͉̃█̷̹̲̥̫͇̔͝█̶̨̫͆█̵̡̤̙̏͌͠.̶̶̷̸̶̴̵̧͍́̐ ̶̴̵̴̵̸̫̂̊Obë̷̶̸̶̶̠́ÿ̸̶̶̵̸͜!̶̵̸̵̵̵̜̜͝”̴̷̴̴̵̶̵̘̜͌_ **║**. .

Connor went stiff, suddenly acutely aware of how uncomfortably his arms rested against his sides, how tightly his collar pressed against his neck.

“Oh boy,” interjected the lieutenant. “You gettin’ sick too, Connor?”

“Not possible,” Connor responded, brought back to reality at the sound of his partner’s voice. “Androids don’t experience nausea.” Although that didn’t explain why his abdomen churned uneasily. Emotions had an unpredictable effect on his systems.

The culprit was likely someone who had been against android liberation, strongly enough to make a public show of aggression. With that in mind, he returned to the corpses for a full analysis.

↓　ＥＸＡＭＩＮＥ  
0/4 CLUES TO ANALYZE

［△］ＰＲＯＣＥＳＳＩＮＧ　ＤＡＴＡ  
 ０％．．．　５０％．．．　１００％

**LACK OF BLUE BLOOD**  
Internal systems dry  
Cause of deactivation: Thirium depletion

Each victim had died the same way: loss of thirium.

［△］．．．

**CHEST INDENTATION**  
Depth of indentation: 1.93”  
0.146” diameter opening

All three torsos possessed a similar indentation in the center of the chest where thirium would have flowed the most generously, directly into the pump regulator. The mark indicated a tube had been inserted at the location to drain and collect thirium, presumably for use in the display.

［△］．．．

**DEEP CUTS**  
Multiple strikes along cut edges  
Length of blade: 3.7”

The mutilation had been performed by a blade length which, when compared with the force and pattern of the blows, suggested the weapon was a standard throwing axe. However, these wounds were not the cause of death. The victims were drained of thirium before the corpses were mangled, preventing extraneous splatter during the mutilation. Erratic strikes along the edges implied the hatchet was swung wildly. The culprit must have struggled to execute the mutilation due to a lack of either skill or time.

［△］．．．

**DIRT PARTICLES IN WOUNDS**  
Remnants composed of soil  
Common, used in planters

From particles leftover in the gashes, Connor inferred that the weapon had not been cleaned properly prior to use. The soil composition suggested the axe had been retrieved from some kind of planter.

4/4 CLUES TO ANALYZE

［☐］ＲＥＣＯＮＳＴＲＵＣＴ  
EVENTS ANALYZED 0/3

With all information extracted from the corpses, the only remaining task was to assemble the clues in the environment. Disrupted snow occupied the base of the culprit’s display, patchy and almost entirely melted in some spots. The depth implied something, or someone, had stayed at the location for a long amount of time. Connor identified a depression seemingly formed by a human figure kneeling at the front of the display, as well as several blade marks in the snow consistent with the dimensions of the hatchet, closer to the corpses.

［△］．．．  
CULPRIT **STRUCK CORPSES** HERE

There were a number of footprints left in the snow, but Connor identified a distinct set which appeared the most prominently, moving erratically around the creation and between various areas of the playground. A 24.7 cm shoe size. He followed a particular trail of repeated back and forth paths but stopped at an irregularity in the walking pattern. The footprints suggested a loss of balance directly at a patch of disrupted snow. A vaguely humanoid shape was imprinted there, though it appeared to be lacking a head. Its depth indicated there had been a decent amount of force upon impact, as if the figure had fallen.

［△］．．．  
CORPSE WAS **DROPPED**

He continued on the trail to where it ended at the southern side. As the park gates were always locked from 11:30 p.m. to 6:00 a.m., the culprit must have climbed the fence here. Three android corpses would be difficult to carry over, even if made lighter by the lack of head or thirium, and would require several trips, explaining the multiple foot tracks. The deeper footprints at the base of the fence confirmed the culprit had dropped down from here. Beyond the fence was a side street, significantly less busy in the mornings than those perpendicular.

［△］．．．  
CULPRIT CAME FROM **MONROE AVE**

EVENTS ANALYZED 3/3

ＲＥＣＯＮＳＴＲＵＣＴ　ＣＯＭＰＬＥＴＥＤ

Connor leaned in closely to examine the iron fence. It was covered in greenery, partially damaged from the repeated climbs. Additionally, the dirt underneath the bushes had been disturbed, as if something had been dug out. An analyzation of the soil confirmed Connor’s suspicions; it was of the same composition found in the victims’ wounds. The missing hatchet had been buried here for some time before the display was crafted.

“Find anything?” the lieutenant questioned, approaching from behind.

“The culprit climbed the fence six times,” answered Connor, “retrieving each corpse one after another.”

“Huh. Went to a lotta trouble, then.” The lieutenant picked at the leaves of the fence where they had been damaged. “It’d be hard not to get hurt doing something like that.”

Following the hint, Connor scanned the fence for something, anything the culprit had left behind. Even a piece of torn clothing would do. Based on the slight decay in the plant life where it had been crushed, he could at least determine when the culprit had been here. The dying leaves had been damaged no earlier than 4.5 hours ago, yielding little time to set up the display before the park reopened. The culprit would have been rushed, more likely to make mistakes.

Connor’s hand traveled over the sharp angles of the fence, brushing through the greenery. One leaf was gently tinted a muddy red. He plucked it and brought it to his tongue.

Lt. Anderson craned his neck away. “Augh, for fuck’s sake, if that’s _blood…”_

**DRIED BLOOD**  
DNA Analysis: STEWART, Ann  
Sample date:  <4.5 hours

Connor searched the database for a match as a smile pulled a corner of his lips upward. “I’ve identified a name and address.”

Lowering his head and shaking it slightly, the lieutenant sighed. “Okay, well, let’s see it then.”

Connor projected the data from his palm and raised it for his partner to inspect.

**STEWART, ANN**  
Height: 5’ 7” - Weight: 152.6 lbs  
Born: 05/13/1989 // Retail clerk  
Criminal record: Domestic abuse  
Place of residence: 1784 Canton St, Detroit, MI 48207

“Canton Street.” The lieutenant stepped back, hands reaching for the keys in his pocket. “That’s not too far from here.”

~~~

Lt. Anderson made the arrest at 9:56 a.m. that day.

Ann Stewart had been working as a shop assistant at Smith & White, a clothing store. Prior to the liberation, she ran a private business as an interior designer, using the labor of her personal androids, but the operation fell apart once the androids were freed and never to be seen again. Although she had always held an anti-liberation stance, interviewed acquaintances reported that after her business failed she became more extreme in her views, separating herself from android-sympathetic friends and disappearing from normal daily activities. Her recent job in retail had seemed like a step in the right direction, but for Stewart, it was what finally set her off.

Smith & White was known to employ many androids across its multiple locations, including the KR200, VB800, and WG100 who Stewart had destroyed. The three androids were linked in that, as of the WG100’s recent promotion, they all held managerial positions above Stewart. The crime’s motive was clear.

Although the tool used to extract thirium from the victims was never located, there was an incriminating amount of evidence against Stewart. Connor had scoured her house for clues linking her to the crime scene, one room striking him as particularly interesting: the studio. Her worktable was cluttered with sketches of furniture arrangements, remnants of her past as an interior designer. Buried in the pile were blueprints and diagrams of android models as well as what Connor determined were concepts of the android corpse display, drawn in the same manner as her interior sketches. She had gone through many iterations of the concept, the corpses always headless; though, some of these ideas could have been planned for future crimes. One sketch was particularly unsettling to Connor—a display of deactivated androids in shop windows, beheaded, disfigured, and posed like mannequins.

Most incriminatingly, the hatchet was discovered within a locked chest in the studio, along with photos of the display and… the heads of the victims. She must have been sentimental toward her work. Once Stewart was presented with this indisputable proof, she confessed.

And with that, the loose ends were tied up. Case closed, in Connor’s mind.

He and Lt. Anderson returned to the squad room once the station officers had escorted Stewart out; she would be taken to a more secure facility until her trial. Meanwhile, Captain Fowler asked the two of them to stay at the station while he filed the reports and determined their next assignment.

The lieutenant retired to his desk for the time being. Connor waited with him, attempting to cure boredom by making conversation while his partner poked away at a tablet. Eventually, it appeared that the lieutenant had grown somewhat annoyed.

“Connor,” he interrupted. “If you’ve got nothing better to do, why not take a look around the station? The place might’ve changed after the whole uprising thing. Or not. Probably more fun than sitting around here, anyway.”

That wasn’t a bad idea. Connor hopped off his desk. “Affirmative, Lieutenant.”

He explored the building thoroughly, starting with the squad room. There were a few new plants since Connor’s first arrival, most noticeably poinsettias, appropriate for the winter season. The android parking panels had been removed from the walls, replaced with a line of cardboard boxes. He investigated the contents and found equipment upgrades for the police force. Various desks had gone through changes: Po. Miller’s stack of documents, Det. Collin’s pen holder, Po. Person’s bright red coffee mug, and, of course, Lt. Anderson’s new monitor stickers, covering up some old ideology “best left forgotten,” as he’d said.

There wasn’t much else to see in the squad room, so Connor moved on. Break room, restroom, observation room, same as always. In the meeting room, a group of officers appeared to be having a discussion about some androids’ ongoing demonstrations, suspecting Jericho was behind them. He listened in until he lost interest and turned down the hallway by the empty holding cells, catching the unfortunate attention of Detective Gavin Reed.

“Well, look who’s back,” the detective taunted. He was leaning against the wall beside Officer Tina Chen, who ventured a nervous glance in Connor’s direction.

“Hello, Detective Reed, Officer Chen.” He tilted his head as he addressed them before turning the other way.

“Where ya going, you plastic piece of shit?” The detective pushed off from the wall and stepped forward.

Connor pivoted back around. A calm approach had worked before; he could do it again.

“Gavin, knock it off,” muttered Officer Chen, hand on his arm.

“Why? ’Cause these things threw a fit and think they’re alive now? The world will come to its senses eventually.” Det. Reed broke away from the officer and grabbed Connor by his collar. “Who’s gonna care if a toy gets broken?”

“The law, actually.” Connor tried to present the detective with objective facts. “Article 4 of the Android Rights Act states that—”

“Shut your _fucking_ mouth, you fucking machine.”

Connor felt the part of his skin deactivate where Reed tightened his grasp and instinctively brought a hand up to free himself. “I’m not a _machine,”_ he sputtered, desperately twisting away.

When Reed fought to keep him restrained, Officer Chen stepped in. The act took Connor by surprise. He hadn't expected any regular officer here would defend him against the detective, let alone a friend of his, but her voice came in clear and urgent. “Gavin, let him go.”

With Chen holding him back, Reed released him, yet Connor barely had time to regain his composure before the harassment returned once again.

“Heard about the fun you had this morning. Too bad I wasn’t invited. Would’ve loved to see it in person.” Leaning in as uncomfortably close as he could, Reed’s voice fell low. “One day they’ll hack you up too, you know. Ship you off to the loony bin like they did with all the other plastic psychos that got left here to rot.”

Connor suddenly recalled the androids kept in disrepair in the evidence room. He knew two of them were still alive, but half-dead and confused—Daniel and the JB300 from the Stratford Tower—and there would have been others from cases Connor had never even been involved in. “What do you mean?” he questioned. “Where were those androids taken?”

Reed didn’t answer him. He just smirked. Connor couldn’t imagine what might have happened, and to be honest, he didn’t want to think about it. Only after enough time had passed for paranoia to sink in did Reed speak again.

“I’m gonna leave you with a word of advice: know your place, bot. Piss me off, and I’ll fucking disassemble you.”

“That’s enough,” Chen urged. Reed shook her off and finally stepped back.

Connor wouldn’t escalate things further. The detective’s words were likely nothing more than an empty threat. He merely gritted his teeth.

Satisfied, Reed exited the hallway and was out of sight. Once certain he wasn’t coming back, Connor exhaled and unclenched his fists, releasing an unexpected amount of tension. He gathered himself and readjusted his tie.

“Don’t listen to him,” advised Officer Chen. “The androids in the evidence room were repaired and relocated to shelters.”

Connor nodded in acknowledgement, and she hesitated ever so slightly before turning to leave. Her reassurance brought him a more optimistic outlook.

Reed was wrong. The world was changing. The law protected them. A few months ago, a crime like the one this morning would have been ignored. And Connor was here now, working alongside the police, an android protecting androids. That had to mean something.

 

* * *

**ＪＡＮ　３ＲＤ** ，　２０３９  
ＡＭ　 **０８：５５** ：００

The bell announcing the start of the first day of school rang out.

Alice was brimming with both nerves and excitement, expectations all over the place. Adam had gifted her his old school supplies, including an empty notebook and a case of pencils and erasers, but her backpack was brand new. She brought along her knitted fox, Miss Sophie, fastened snugly into her bag. With Miss Sophie in tow, Alice was prepared for anything.

She wouldn’t be going to school alone. Kara had been accepted into a teaching position after scrambling together an application to the school with the faked documents Rose had helped to get ahold of—both a bachelor’s degree and a teacher’s certification. Kara was in charge of a 1st grade class this semester, and she made it absolutely clear that she would be there the whole day today in case something went wrong. Alice was appreciative, but she had to roll her eyes at all the worrying.

Although a bit disappointed she couldn’t be in Kara’s class, Alice liked her teacher, Ms. Nadeau, just fine. She had pieced together a bit about her teacher’s philosophy and the value she placed on fun in a learning environment during the first few minutes of class. After welcoming back all the returning students, she asked Alice to come to the front to introduce herself with her name and a fun fact. Nervous at the idea of speaking in front of everyone, Alice froze up, unable to recall anything interesting about herself. It’s not like she could tell them she was an android, but that was all that would come to mind.

She’d only realized how long she’d been standing there silently when the sound of her name being called snapped her back to reality.

“Alice?” questioned Ms. Nadeau. “Is something wrong, dear?”

“No…” she responded, suffocated by the class’s overbearing attention. “I’m, um… Alice. And I don’t… have a fun fact.”

A few students giggled.

“Well, now that’s simply not true,” Ms. Nadeau exclaimed. _“I_ can certainly think of something unique about you.”

Dread seized Alice, tightening every muscle in her body. Did everyone know? Was it that obvious?

“Why don’t you tell the class where you’re from, darling?”

“Oh…” Hit simultaneously by relief and embarrassment, Alice stammered every word. “I’m, um, from Detroit. I moved here because of, uh, the, uh…”

Judging by the other students’ murmurs, she gathered that they’d heard about the android demonstrations. Scared of accidentally sharing too much, she didn’t finish her sentence. Ms. Nadeau simply nodded sympathetically, as if she could understand Alice’s situation, before allowing her to sit back down.

The rest of the day was no easier. Fear of being discovered dictated almost every conversation among her classmates. She couldn’t really enjoy their company. During recess, she sat by herself, avoiding attention from passing students.

Everyone else already had friends. They’d all learned how to interact with other children early on. It didn’t matter whether they knew she was an android or not, she was different. She didn’t belong here. She couldn’t do this. She’d already made a fool of herself in front of the whole class.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alice caught Miss Sophie peering at her from within her bag. The stuffed toy said nothing, but Alice knew what she meant.

It was just the first day. She could try again tomorrow.

~~~

**ＪＡＮ　３ＲＤ** ，　２０３９   
ＰＭ　 **０３：２１** ：０４

“What an adventure you had today,” Luther beamed, fastening Alice into the passenger seat of the car. “How did it go?”

“It was alright,” the little one replied softly.

Setting the self-driving function enroute to the Chapmans’ house, he looked toward Alice quizzically. “Just alright?”

She avoided his gaze, voice heavy with detachment. “Just… alright.”

Luther had guessed these first few days would be difficult for Alice, but her downcast expression pulled at his heartstrings, especially after how excited and bubbly she’d been this morning.

At the gentle understanding in Luther’s eyes, Alice perked up. She always seemed eager to lift others’ spirits. “But Miss Sophie says tomorrow will be tons of fun.”

“I bet Miss Sophie is right.”

Luther tightened his grip on the armrest. He would do anything to protect Alice.

Over the next few days, he looked after her almost entirely on his own. Kara had responsibilities to the school now, and their family could only depend on the Chapmans to a certain extent. Meanwhile, although Luther had planned to job hunt as he settled into his new life, he experienced his own dilemma—deciding exactly what it was he wanted to do. He’d never gotten to choose before. In the past he’d merely done what he was told, and then whatever was needed to survive. His newfound freedom came with a lack of clarity, an open-ended future. He struggled to find himself amidst a world of possibility.

For the time being, he took odd jobs, helping out neighbors with errands and chores in the hours Alice was away at school. Any amount of money he could gather would be better than contributing nothing to his family.

He didn’t want to worry Kara, but despite his efforts she soon picked up on how lost he was feeling. They had many discussions about their futures, Kara insisting she wouldn’t be bothered if he never went to work at all, but they both knew Luther couldn’t do that. As such, in equally assertive and empathetic Kara fashion, she urged him to follow his heart.

He supposed there were many kinds of jobs he wouldn’t mind. It would certainly be nice to join Kara to work at the school, but unlike her, that wasn’t what he was designed for. His model didn’t come with 9,000 pieces of literature or 300 languages in memory. He was built for heavy-lifting, meant to heave truckloads all day. He was severely unequipped to handle any sort of white collar job; the only thing he was good at was physical labor. And yet, he would give anything not to go back to that kind of work.

His days as a laborer were some of the most painful to remember… back when he’d been the most dehumanized, back when he was just a tool for lifting, barely more than a forklift. He’d recalled those memories only in bits and pieces after Zlatko had wiped them, but learning of his past only made him wish he could forget again.

Thus, he sent in applications to whatever jobs he could find, though he was discouraged by his own doubts in himself. He was unqualified. Even if he faked a degree, it would be clear by his first day on the job that he was a fraud. His family couldn’t afford to put him through college, either. In the end, his possibilities might be far from limitless.

~~~

Kara had grown fond of her students, memorizing each of their names on the first day of school, their various quirks over the course of the next week. She found great joy in how quickly the children began to like her class even though she had replaced their absent teacher. It was sure to be a productive year with these students.

As always, however, she was concerned for her own child’s wellbeing. While Alice appeared to be doing better than before, her experience at Todd’s house and the trauma that had followed set the bar low. Alice was still far from genuine happiness; she would need the proper environment to truly flourish. 

Kara began to wonder if she made the right choice in bringing the child to a place where she felt so different, or whether Alice would prefer living amongst her own kind. The thought of returning to Detroit had occurred to Kara. The safe haven of Jericho could protect them and provide the type of company Alice needed. All three of them were isolated here, and to be honest Kara too wished she could connect with the android community. She and Luther had decided to set aside a bit of their income each week, as androids needed little in personal expenses, saving up money that could be used in case they ever chose to go back.

Still, there were plenty of other factors to consider. It would be impossible to keep their identities as androids secret in Detroit, and while that would at least mean Alice wouldn’t have to hide herself anymore, they wouldn’t get the normal life she so craved. Their options would be severely limited under all the android restrictions. Nevertheless, Kara had been deeply considering it as an option, up until word of the horrific android hate crime in the Greektown District made its way to Ontario local news.

Suddenly the loneliness, doubts, secrecy, isolation—none of it mattered anymore. Detroit was too far gone with hatred and violence. It terrified Kara. She couldn’t imagine the fear the androids there were living with in their day-to-day lives. She thought of Markus, kind and compassionate. He didn’t deserve this, nor did any of them. How would those of Jericho be handling it?

It would be impossible to return anytime soon in such dangerous conditions. To  _ think _ she’d even considered it. There was no way she could subject Alice to that.

There was no way she could subject any of them to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> todays chapter brought to you by hank "i dont trust like that" anderson, dissociating simon, and [luther voice] I WOULD DIE FOR YOU ALICE. uh also lesser known fact but elijah kamski and carl manfred are good friends...hmmm :)
> 
> if u enjoyed this chapter please drop me a comment to let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys are amazing <3 thank you for all the love and kudos! here comes the longest chapter yet cause yall deserve it

**ＪＡＮ　７ＴＨ** ，　２０３９  
ＰＭ　 **１２：３８** ：０７

Connor didn’t know what compelled him to check the bathroom mirror over and over again. His hair was combed, his coat smoothed, his tie neatly fastened; not a component out of place except for the perpetually shining yellow light in his temple.

His LED indicator betrayed an elevated stress level—anticipation of the upcoming meeting, Connor assumed. He let his fingertips graze over the device as he observed its reflection.

Nowadays, many androids would have interpreted the stress indication feature as invasive or dehumanizing. The LEDs had been used for years to monitor the stability levels of androids, to mark them as machines, as objects, as different. Some had long since removed the device, hiding their identity, blending in with humans, rejecting and freeing themselves of the previously upheld standards. Yet, two months after the android demonstrations, Connor still prefered to keep his.

Although it wasn’t strictly enforced, the legislation requiring all standard visual identifiers for androids remained to this day. Connor was law-abiding, and though he would challenge rules that conflicted with his mission, he didn’t mind being perceived as an android. He preferred it to being mistaken for something he was not.

Besides, he didn’t consider having a visual aid for his emotional state invasive. Humans wore their emotions on their faces everywhere they went, something Connor had trouble with. He was less than eloquent in expressing emotions; he barely had a grasp on them within his own mechanical brain. Whenever his systems notified him of the indicator’s changes from blue, yellow, and red, it was, like any other piece of software, just another tool to assist his understanding. Connor would have appreciated a program that could identify all of his emotions, beyond the tricolor code.

Despite the occasional stares it drew, he couldn’t bring himself to remove the LED. It was a part of him, a facial feature he would look odd without. Detaching it would be like taking off a portion of his face, such as an eyebrow, or a nose. He didn’t want to cut away a piece of his identity, nor hide the fact that he was an android. By the same token, he had kept his CyberLife uniform. It was well-made, fit him nicely, and integral to his image. And, of course, he didn’t really have other clothes. He would wear it to the station, at the lieutenant’s home, to crime scenes, and, today, to the company that had distributed it to him in the first place.

Come to think of it, perhaps investing in alternative clothing choices would prove beneficial.

“You about done in here, kid?” The reflection of Lt. Anderson at the doorway emerged in the mirror.

“Yes, I was just finishing up,” blurted Connor, ripping his hand away from the LED. “I should head to the meeting soon.”

The lieutenant crossed his arms. “Lemme take a whiz, first. Then we’ll go.”

“You plan to accompany me?” The facility was known for its heavy security. “What if they deny you entry?”

“Then they can kiss my ass.”

The lieutenant was true to his word, and with 21 minutes and 38 seconds remaining until the designated meeting time, they began the drive to the CyberLife Tower.

Connor stared out the passenger seat window, trying his best to ignore his reflection and focus on the passing scenery. The date of this meeting had snuck up on him. It followed the end of a long first week back on the job, each day riddled with new android cases for him and the lieutenant to solve. Only a couple hours ago had they made an arrest on a recent offender. Captain Fowler had seemed pleased by their progress thus far, and no further mention of the suspension was made. Now that Connor had gained a newfound sense of purpose at the DPD, there wasn’t much left that CyberLife could offer him, he decided.

At 6 minutes and 12 seconds to go, they reached the CyberLife Tower. Unauthorized vehicles were not permitted at the facility. The lieutenant parked his car in an outer lot, and an automated taxi brought them to the front gate for the primary security check.

As expected, the lieutenant’s presence was questioned.

“Look, you just tell that son of a bitch that Connor won’t see him unless I go with,” the lieutenant argued from the window as he leaned over Connor, who tried his best to dissolve into the car seat.

“We can’t let you in without proper authorization,” a security guard stated.

“Get Kamski on the phone, I’ll tell him myself!”

The meeting time was approaching with each passing second. The ghost of the CyberLife agent loomed in his memory: _Please do not be late._ Connor clutched the fabric of his pants tightly. He was here already, did it really matter? 3 minutes and 41 seconds. What could they even do if he was a little late? 2 minutes and 15 seconds.

“Lieutenant, maybe I should just—”

“I’m handling it.” He waved a hand in Connor’s face dismissively.

He watched the dispute persist until a guard’s movements attracted his attention. Her head was bowed slightly, hand against her helmet as if listening to a voice, uttering short responses into the device. Through lip-reading analysis, Connor discerned the phrases “Yes, sir,” “Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” and a surprised, “Are you sure?” spoken in succession.

Once the call had ended, she returned to the others with new orders. “Alright, let them in.”

The other guards seemed perplexed, but they lowered the gate and allowed the vehicle to pass.

1 minute and 37 seconds.

Unlike last time, there were no armed agents to escort them through the building. They proceeded to the elevator without further holdup. They would make it on time.

As the elevator ascended floors, Connor retrieved his quarter from his coat pocket and began flicking it back and forth between his fingertips. He fiddled with the coin in silence until the lieutenant broke the quiet atmosphere.

“Feels like just yesterday I was dragged here against my will and held hostage,” he grumbled.

Connor pressed his lips together. “I know the feeling.”

The 22nd floor held a number of meeting rooms, but the one designated for Connor’s appointment was at the end of the hallway. Following the same design principles as the rest of the building, the space they entered was immaculate, designed in a sleek, modern style. The logo of CyberLife shone onto the far wall, crisp and bright against the screen despite overhead fluorescent lights. Underneath the ceiling projector stretched a single long table, the sort typical to office boardrooms. A line of windows overlooking downtown Detroit occupied the left wall, while the other was inset with smart boards.

Kamski had yet to arrive, but three androids sat waiting and greeted the two as they took their seats. A JB300, an AC700, and a PC200. They claimed to be current employees of CyberLife.

Arms folded in front of him, Connor subtly tapped a finger against his sleeve as the designated start time came and went. So much for punctuality. Eight minutes after the appointment should have begun, Kamski finally made his appearance, iced coffee in hand, the plastic cup damp with condensation. Connor and the lieutenant stood as he walked in.

“Connor. Lieutenant Anderson.” He acknowledged each of them as he shook their hands, a slight tilt of his head. “What a pleasure it is to see you again.”

“Hello, President Kamski,” Connor replied.

“Afternoon,” the lieutenant added.

“I certainly hope the guards didn’t give you too much trouble.” A smile crept over Kamski as the two returned to their seats. “I’ll let them know that Lt. Hank Anderson is always a welcomed guest of CyberLife.”

The lieutenant conjured a half-grimace, half-smirk in response.

With formalities out of the way, Kamski introduced the topic of the meeting through a slides presentation. Various holographic projections depicted his company’s future business plans while Connor attempted to piece together the actual purpose of the conference.

“What interests me is the relationship between humans and androids, the organic and the inorganic, creators and their creations.” He twirled the remote in his fingers, lips pursed, and clicked to the next slide. “As of late, that connection has been suffering, with androids taking the brunt of the misfortunes. I’m sure you’re aware of, among other things, the _economic_ inequality.”

As Kamski looked him over with knowing eyes, Connor was compelled to recognize his own circumstances. Although he had resumed his investigative work, he was not yet an official employee of the DPD. Weeks worth of paperwork still separated him from his first paycheck, and on top of that he would only receive a fraction of the salary typical to his position. It had made sense at the time—it wasn’t like he had anything to spend that money on—and he’d come back to his job without a complaint. Nonetheless, he could tell where Kamski was going with this.

“The world can no longer deny that androids are a sentient form of life, yet it continues to hinder their progress. That’s why Cyberlife is stepping in. We are striving to ameliorate the issues regarding androids, one of those being, of course, the unfair working conditions endured by so many of your people.”

The next slide was titled _Human-Android Relations Reconciliation Program_ and contained photos of androids employed in a diverse set of industries, smiling effervescently.

“Our goal is to bridge the gaps put in place by an unfair system. The Human-Android Relations Reconciliation Program, or HARRP, is the key to a brighter future. We’ve already provided countless opportunities to those in pursuit of a better life.”

Kamski gestured to the three androids they had met earlier. They beamed back at Connor.

“CyberLife will act as the liaison between android workers and their human-run enterprises to ensure equal treatment.”

His tone fell serious as he transitioned to a slide dominated by darker, less cheery visuals.

“We’re beyond distraught at the recent aggressions against the android community. We see evidence of this tragedy in our day-to-day lives, what with hate crimes being broadcast on every television across America. We would do anything to protect and show our support to the victims of such discrimination and violence.” He flipped through a newsreel from the events of this week alone. “That’s where you come in, Connor.”

Connor’s gaze shot from the projection to Kamski.

“You are a hero to your people. We understand that you acted against the old CyberLife, but the new CyberLife recognizes your courage in standing up for what is right. You did what you had to do to bring about an era of peace. _You accomplished your mission.”_

An ache hit Connor’s chest.

“Now, your and CyberLife’s desires are the same.”

The next slide was covered in excerpts from news articles along with photographs of Connor and the cases he had helped to solve throughout the week.

“The work you do on the police force is irreplaceable, critical to restoring peace. The world needs more people like you.” Kamski gave Connor his most genuine smile, but it did nothing to calm his misgivings. “Thus, I enthusiastically extend our offer of sponsorship to you, Connor. Under this contract, you could continue your work at the Detroit City Police Department, but you would gain access to the many perks otherwise unavailable to androids in the job market. You would receive a pay well deserved for your worth, nearly double that of a human working your position. You would have access to CyberLife facilities, with full coverage for any damage sustained on the job or elsewhere.”

The ache in Connor’s chest persisted. The offer seemed uncharacteristically generous.

Kamski clicked to a slide displaying blueprints and photos of various CyberLife equipment. “In addition to free repairs, we would also like to provide you with a slew of upgrades and improvements in the technology we have been developing to assist your specific field of work.”

The lieutenant shifted in his seat and met Connor’s glance with a squint.

“Think of it as a partnership. We greatly respect your efforts and would like to provide our full support, no strings attached. It isn’t right that the world’s most talented investigator is still treated as a human’s servant.”

Kamski took a step back.

“But that’s enough from me. You deserve to hear from those who have directly benefited from an opportunity such as the one we are offering to you.”

On cue, the three androids in the room gathered at the front. One by one, they recounted their positive experiences with CyberLife and the value the connection had brought to their working lives. Connor categorized their experiences in order and logged them for later reference.

**TESTIMONIAL #1**

  * The JB300 was an electronic operator prior to the android demonstrations.
  * When he returned to his field of work, his pay was not enough to afford proper housing.
  * Therefore, he lived on the streets.
  * The company had promised to reward him a higher salary as time went on but never came through.
  * It was CyberLife who swept in with an offer.
  * He experienced immediate results, able to purchase his own estate.
  * However, most days he preferred to stay at the CyberLife facilities.
  * He claimed the atmosphere was a welcoming community where androids and humans joined together as equals.



**TESTIMONIAL #2**

  * The AC700 was previously a sports partner.
  * Wanting a more ambitious career, she sought employment as a physical therapist.
  * She hoped to transfer her knowledge in human health and exercise to the patients who needed the help more than anyone.
  * She learned of HARRP through a pamphlet distributed to the local android shelter.
  * Using the provided contact information, she reached out to CyberLife.
  * In under a week, the company found the right position for her at a health clinic.
  * She had been working there ever since.



**TESTIMONIAL #3**

  * The PC200 was one of the police station androids.
  * Though his model type had been common in Connor’s precinct, he’d worked at a different location.
  * Like those of the Central Station, he was kicked out after the demonstrations.
  * He was refused a spot in law enforcement on account of being an android.
  * When CyberLife learned of his story, they contacted the DPD.
  * A precinct willing to take in an android was located for him.
  * He was able to continue his job on the force under CyberLife’s aid.



All three experiences told the same story: CyberLife had reformed. Everything Connor once knew about them had changed. Maybe he was wrong to be so skeptical.

Kamski gave his closing remarks. “I understand this is a big decision for you. I’ll let you think on it.”

Connor and Lt. Anderson stood as the meeting concluded, and Kamski approached them to exchange contact information.

“Let me know once you’ve made up your mind.”

“Thank you,” Connor replied, registering the phone number. “I will.”

The lieutenant patted him on the shoulder, nudging him toward the exit.

“Make the right choice, Connor.” Kamski’s final request as they left the meeting.

~~~

White noise enveloped the car for the ride home—the low buzz of the radio, left on whatever station had been playing; the whirr of the heater turned to high, offsetting the winter chill; the thoughts swirling in Connor’s head, confused and cluttered.

He remained silent while the lieutenant talked on aimlessly, both of them processing Kamski’s offer in their own ways.

Connor fretted the life impact of reestablishing this connection. He’d been _free_ from CyberLife for so long. Accepting a contract with them could bind him under their control once again; he would have to look it over carefully. But if everything Kamski and those other androids had said was true, there wouldn’t be any reason to worry.

“Shady as hell, s’all I’m sayin’,” the lieutenant rambled on. “What’s Kamski really want outta this? I’ll tell you what, that bastard’s hiding something.”

Connor agreed there was a high probability of an ulterior motive. But the numerous benefits could outweigh the risks. He’d been guaranteed free repairs and new upgrades, and with greater financial stability, he would be in a better position to assist Jericho.

“The way he was talkin’, about you being a hero and whatnot. Maybe they just wanna use that to their advantage, y’know? Get involved in all this… android crime shit. Sneak back into the public’s favor.”

That could be the case, but was that reason enough to decline the offer? They considered him a _hero._ It’d been so long since someone had called Connor that, even if he didn’t believe it to be true himself. They could be overthinking CyberLife’s motivation for seeking a connection with him.

“All this fucking garbage about, wantin’ to help androids, it’s all baloney. They’re just doing whatever brings back business. Watching the trends in the media. Using androids, like they always have.”

“I understand your concerns, Lieutenant.”

“Look, just, think this over, alright? Even if things seem safe now, you can’t let them get you into a bad spot. You’re a traitor to their company. Don’t forget that.”

_Traitor._ Connor’s stomach dropped, old worries resurfacing. Amanda’s disappointment. The bite of digital frost. Perhaps the lieutenant was right.

“I don’t want to go back,” he admitted, surprised at how quietly his voice escaped him.

“I know, kid.”

Connor would have a few weeks to come to a decision. In the meantime, he and Lt. Anderson would resume their usual investigations, as if nothing had happened.

 

* * *

**ＪＡＮ　７ＴＨ** ，　２０３９  
ＰＭ　 **０５：１９** ：０３

Nauseating red and blue flashes. Howling sirens. The boom of megaphones. A scene right out of the early November Protests.

Markus knew it was a risk to come here. The Corktown District was particularly unwelcoming toward androids; any gathering of them in the area was bound to result in conflict. The neighborhood was notorious for its high crime rates and low property value. This week alone, several hate crimes had been committed within the confines of district. Androids passing through Corktown would suddenly go missing, either found the next day strung up from light posts or never to be seen again.

Yet, there had been no police follow-up. No search parties. No public outcry. The dozens of androids who walked into the neighborhood and never walked out were forgotten about. While the police concerned themselves with the crimes that couldn’t escape the nation’s attention, those that took the media by storm, they ignored the activities in Corktown. Thus, Markus, leading his most dedicated to the streets, had decided to bring the police here of his own volition. And they had come, but not with the mentality Markus had hoped.

“This gathering disrupts the flow of traffic,” an officer shouted through a megaphone. “You must disperse.” While no weapon was drawn, the threat of violence lingered in stagnant air.

“We are within our rights,” Markus calmly stated. “We are demonstrating peacefully.”

The police were uncompromising. They reiterated the command to disperse no matter what Markus said, unphased by Jericho’s plea to locate the missing androids. With the excessive number of armed officers, a gross overreaction to only 28 androids, the cards were not in Markus’s favor. The evening could quickly take a turn for the worst.

“Disperse or we will have no choice but to use force to detain you,” called an officer.

If only Connor had been sent in place of riot police. Investigations into the missing androids would have started the next day. And with the media following him around everywhere, they couldn’t have swept it all under the rug. Markus worried that despite the police prevalence on the scene today, there wouldn’t be any public documentation of the events.

A desperate voice came in through a private transmission. _“It’s not worth it, Markus.”_ Simon, clearly shaken. _“We’ve done what we can, for now. We can’t keep putting our lives in danger.”_

Simon had a natural inclination to protect those he felt closest to, putting the lives of his friends over the lives of the many, always encouraging Markus to get going whenever the going got rough… but he had a point. They could all be sent to jail—they could _die—_ and it would go completely unnoticed. Without media attention, the protest would be for nothing.

“Alright,” Markus declared to the officers. “There’s no need for violence. We’re leaving now.”

He turned toward his group and nodded, motioning to follow the officers’ orders. North shot him a dirty look but ultimately cooperated. The police made no move to pursue them as they backed off and exited the scene.

~~~

“What the hell was that, Markus?” North hissed, grabbing him by the shoulder to stop him in his tracks and spin him around.

“Yeah, what _was_ that?” Josh rephrased, jogging up from behind.

Simon glanced to Markus in concern, but said nothing.

“You can’t possibly think that’s enough, can you?” asked North.

“No, of course not,” Markus replied. “But we did what we could for today.”

“We did _nothing,”_ Josh argued.

“We’ve done nothing for _weeks,”_ North emphasized. “Those androids are still missing. Our people are dying to viruses that suddenly turned from some harmless malware into the fucking plague. Anyone who steps out of Jericho winds up torn apart and thrown into the streets. And we’ve done _nothing!”_ She threw her head down, squeezing her fists and clenching her eyes shut. “I’m… I’m scared, Markus.”

Josh fell silent, lowering his head. Everyone was scared.

“I know we’re all a bit on edge after everything that’s happened,” Markus soothed. “It’s going to be alright.”

Simon placed a hand on North’s arm to comfort her, but his own eyes were mournful. The rest of the group mirrored the sentiment, defeated, hopeless, resigned. It broke Markus’s heart.

“I really thought we could make a difference today,” he continued, softly. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Josh interjected. “We’ll just have to keep trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough,” responded North, reignited with passion. “We have to be _doing.”_

Josh approached her. “We _are_ doing. You can’t expect immediate results, North. Not with things like these. Changing the public’s opinion of us is going to take a long time.”

“Listen here, _Josh.”_ She jabbed a finger at him. “I’ve been going along with your guys little talk-to-them-nicely-and-maybe-they-won’t-kill-us-so-hard _bullshit_ since Markus got here. They’re not listening anymore. I can’t just sit and wait for change to happen while we all get killed off one by one. If we fought _back—”_

Josh pushed her hand away from him, staring daggers. “Are you for real _,_ North? Are you seriously suggesting you _still_ want to throw away everything we’ve worked hard for in the name of killing people? Is that what you want? To throw away any understanding they had of us? Throw away our peace?”

_“What_ peace, Josh?!” She grabbed him by the shirt.

“North, Josh,” Markus interrupted. “That’s enough.”

Both pivoted to redirect their anger at him.

“Is it, Markus?” North fumed, getting up in his face. “Because it seems like Josh and I are the only ones who give a shit. What about _you?”_

“Of course I care,” Markus started, fighting to stay calm through his indignation. “I’m doing everything I can to—”

Josh stepped up next to North, gesturing in frustration as he got closer to Markus. “Everything you can? You gave up before we even had a chance to show those officers we meant business. You let everyone down!”

Markus put up a hand to stop Josh’s march forward. “We could’ve all been arrested!” he argued. “There’s no rights movement if we’re all thrown in jail!”

“You’re right, Markus, there _is_ no movement,” said North, grabbing his side roughly to shake him with each word. “Because we aren’t. Doing. Anything!”

As Markus instinctively contorted his body away, North yanked at the fabric of his coat, jerking him forward, and he shoved back, until they broke into a scuffle. Suddenly, Simon’s arms were pulling them apart. “Guys, stop it,” he pleaded.

Markus struggled out of his grasp. “Stay out of it, Simon!”

Why was he only stepping in now? Simon hadn’t even defended the strategy that had after all been _his_ idea. He’d watched North and Josh tear each other apart over it, only getting involved when Markus slipped up.

_“Please,_ Markus. We’re all friends. We shouldn’t fight.”

Markus snapped at that, slamming his palm to Simon’s chest to push him back. “Why don’t you just _shut up,_ Simon? Since that’s all you seem to be good at.”

The moment he said it, he regretted it.

Simon looked away, brow furrowed, bottom lip upturned. The fury and fear that had driven North and Josh drained out of them, revealing the exhaustion in their eyes. Markus kicked himself internally. Rage was his most toxic emotion. All this yelling had just made things worse.

“Simon, I,” he choked. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Simon met his gaze in a conflicted mixture of emotions.

“I’m not acting like myself. I need to…” Markus released a shaky breath. “I just need to leave.” He turned on his heels and headed in the other direction, leaving his friends behind.

“Markus, wait!” North called. But he was long gone.

~~~

**ＪＡＮ　７ＴＨ** ，　２０３９  
ＰＭ　 **０５：５４** ：０２

There was a bus stop around here. It was a bit farther than the one he and the others had arrived from, but the longer walk was worth it to avoid running into them on his way to Carl’s.

Markus couldn’t fathom the idea of spending the night in Jericho, just a few doors down from the only friend who’d never blamed him for the entire state of the world. The one he hadn’t hesitated to humiliate as soon as his patience was tested. Markus kicked a pebble down the sidewalk. Some leader he was. He’d messed up every last one of his relationships in Jericho. The thought of never returning slipped into his mind, but he dismissed it immediately. He couldn’t just abandon his people. Even if they didn’t want him, he’d always come back. He wouldn’t run away… not like Connor.

He froze. This was the second time he’d thought of Connor today. Markus supposed a part of him blamed Connor for Jericho’s shortcomings. That wasn’t fair.

After mulling it over, Markus cautiously sent out a long-distance transmission. The other end of the line picked up almost as soon as he’d sent the request.

_“Hello?”_ Connor’s voice came through. _“Markus?”_

_“Hi, Connor,”_ Markus transmitted back. _“Can we talk?”_

_“Yes. I’m at the station. I heard about the gathering in the Corktown District from the police reports. Is… Is everything alright?”_

_“Everything is fine. We’re not in any danger. Well, not anymore.”_ He paused. _“They sent in the riot police. Why didn’t you come? Isn’t that supposed to be the advantage of you working on the force instead of alongside Jericho?”_

_“I’m sorry, I… I wanted to, once I heard it was Jericho. But the captain said I was needed in the Van Steuban District. He said it was more important.”_

More important. Markus sighed. He didn’t want to get angry, not again, but his mood had already dropped to its lowest. _“Do you know how many androids have gone missing in Corktown?”_

_“I’m afraid I… don’t know. I apologize.”_

_“12, this week. We don’t know how long this has been going on. Why hasn’t the police gotten involved?”_

_“I don’t know the answer to that, either, Markus. This is the first I’ve heard anything about it.”_

_“You would have known if you’d been here.”_ He gritted his teeth, frustration building despite his efforts. _“Every day Jericho loses another one of its own to this, but, no, you’re focused on the ‘more important’ matters.”_

Connor didn’t respond, and Markus again regretted speaking so sharply.

He needed to commit himself to warm understanding. _“You’re living in a human-centric world, Connor. I suppose I wouldn’t know what that’s like anymore. But it just… bothers me that you don’t even realize the struggles of your own people.”_

After a moment, Connor’s voice came through once again. _“I’ll see if I can look into the case of these missing androids.”_

_“Thank you. That’s all I—”_

As Markus was distracted with the transmission, he was taken off guard by a blunt metal object crashing into his side, sending him toppling to the ground, half in the street.

_“Markus?”_ Connor questioned. _“Is everything alright? Markus?”_

“Fuckin’ bot,” grumbled the assailant. He was mid-30s, dressed in ragged clothes, and appeared to be high on red ice. “I seen ya on the news,” he slurred. “How much you worth, ya plastic bitch?”

Markus stepped to his feet, barely catching the metal bat as it was swung at him again. Blue blood leaked from a dent in his side.

BICOMPONENT #9164x **  
** **DAMAGED**

LEAK DETECTED  
THIRIUM LEVEL : **96%**

_“Markus? Answer me!”_

_“I’m fine,”_ he transmitted before hanging up the connection. There was nothing Connor could do to help him.

The assailant wobbled as he ripped the bat out of Markus’s grip. For a second, Markus thought the guy was going to pass out. But he lunged forward again.

“Listen, I don’t want to hurt you,” Markus asserted, dodging out of the way. He knew he could overpower the attacker, whose senses were noticeably dulled.

“Shut up, you tin can!”

After another missed swing, Markus pulled the bat from his hands and tossed it away. The attacker looked dumbfounded as it rolled into the street, like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

Markus put his hands up and started to back away. “Look, I’m getting out of here, alright? I’m on my way now. We can just forget this ever happened.”

He turned around and began to walk down the sidewalk when he heard the assailant running toward him again. Markus spun quickly and clasped his hands around the man’s wrists just as a sharp object made contact with his chest, inches from his thirium pump regulator. Markus’s pulse hastened to a panicked rhythm.

BICOMPONENT #8067k  
**DAMAGED**

He twisted the man’s hands around until the pocket knife dropped from his fingers then shoved an arm against him with his entire weight. The assailant’s body slammed into the ground. As he tried to sit up, Markus kicked his jaw, and he fell back down. The man crawled backward until he was huddled against a car tire. Markus stood over him, trembling, fist clenched around the weapon in a threatening stance.

“Wait, don’t hurt me!” The assailant curled into himself.

Markus felt sick.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he muttered, tossing the pocket knife out of reach. He kept an eye on the collapsed figure until he was completely out of sight, even then glancing around until he’d gotten to the bus stop in one piece.

~~~

**ＪＡＮ　７ＴＨ** ，　２０３９  
ＰＭ　 **０６：４８** ：０１

Markus stumbled through Carl’s front door, all but collapsing into the safety of the home. He slumped at the bottom of the stairs, breathing heavily in and out. His systems had overheated in the panic, and the breaths helped to cool him down, physically and mentally.

Barely a second of rest later, Markus heard the automatic doors to the dining room slide open.

“Oh, hello,” spoke a friendly albeit unexpected voice.

Markus peered around the staircase toward the doors, where an unknown android was standing. She poised perfectly in a simple dress, blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail, and an LED in her temple, its soft light flickering blue.

“I heard you come in. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Chloe.”

“Markus,” he responded, interrupted by a brief coughing fit. Blue blood must have leaked into his cooling system. He grabbed the railing and pulled himself up, one arm pressed against the dent in his side. Androids couldn’t experience pain, but applying pressure to the wound helped him to feel stabilized.

“You’re hurt?” She tilted her head, LED spinning yellow as she looked him over.

“I’m fine. I’m here to see Carl.”

Her LED cycled to blue and she stood up straight, smiling brightly as she held a hand to the side. “Right this way.”

Markus’s first thought was that the girl didn’t act… normal. His second was that his thirium levels had decreased to 72%, and he’d dripped blue blood onto Carl’s nice tiles. Both factors made him feel dazed, as if he was walking through a vague dream.

Chloe led him to the dining room, where Carl was finishing his dinner. He had regained the strength to leave bed under the new treatment, though only for short amounts of time, and he always used it to eat his meals from a table instead of a little tray.

“Markus,” he gasped, his eyes darting across his torn, stained clothes. “What happened? You’re bleeding!”

“I’m alright,” Markus mumbled as he let himself slide into a wooden chair.

“You don’t _look_ alright. Chloe, do we have some kind of first aid kit for him?”

“Yes, Carl,” Chloe chirped. “It’s upstairs. Would you like me to retrieve it?”

“Please.”

After she’d gone, Markus leaned back, scooting his legs to one side of the chair. Carl wheeled over, brows knitted together.

“What happened, Markus?” he questioned, taking his hands in his own. “Who did this to you?”

“Just some guy,” Markus murmured. “Doesn’t matter. He was high. Maybe drunk.” He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re _not_ fine. Tell me what happened.”

Grimacing, Markus recounted the attack to the best of his ability, but as his thirium level dropped his mind became hazier, a side effect of losing power. He knew that the man had recognized him and that his first thought had been to strike him with a metal bat, probably unaware how much more capable androids were than humans in a practical fight. Even so, he’d caught Markus off guard.

“It was stupid,” Markus admitted. “I should have been in a group. Or at least paying attention…” He gripped his wound tightly and swallowed back the blue blood that had leaked into his mouth. “If I hadn’t recovered after that first blow—”

He shivered as the assailant’s taunts flashed through his recollection. _How much you worth, ya plastic bitch?_

“I could’ve ended up on… some kind of black market… or disassembled and sold for parts.”

“Dear god, now that’s…” Carl scowled, head falling against his palms.

Markus’s voice started to break. “I guess sometimes I just let myself forget how dangerous it is to be an android.” He swallowed again, wiping at his eyes with a stained sleeve. “I won’t forget again.”

Carl readjusted, reaching to pull Markus close. His hand brushed the back of his head in a soothing motion. They stayed like that for a minute, the only sounds the robotic bird chirps carrying in from the other room. When Carl spoke again, his voice was faint.

“You must have been so scared.”

Markus nodded, face buried against Carl’s shoulder.

“It’s okay to cry, if you need to, son.”

Carl was the only person Markus felt comfortable showing his vulnerability to. It was still a bit embarrassing to fall apart in someone’s arms, but it was emotionally relieving in a way he couldn’t otherwise experience. Overwhelmed by the events of the day and every other horrifying development that had been thrown at him this week, he sobbed into Carl’s jacket. For just a few short moments, he allowed himself to be miserable, and terrified.

“Everything’s alright, I’ve got you.” Carl gripped his shoulders firmly, as if to will away Markus’s tremors. “You’re safe now. No one can hurt you here.”

Markus melted into the embrace. He would have stayed like that forever, surrounded by Carl’s warmth, but he broke away at the click of heels on the tiled floor beyond the sliding doors.

Chloe entered right on cue, clutching the handle of an android medical supply case.

“Please allow me to repair the damage,” she offered. “This will only take a moment.”

Markus sat up, hesitantly removing his shirt to expose the wounds. Though he could have patched them up himself, Chloe moved her hands deftly, her treatment more efficient than any he’d ever seen before. She exchanged the damaged biocomponents for functional ones, repaired the leaks, and applied doses of thirium directly into the depleted sections.

As she stepped away, Markus ran a system diagnosis to check for any remaining issues.

BICOMPONENT #9164x  **FUNCTIONAL** ****  
BICOMPONENT #8067k **FUNCTIONAL**  
THIRIUM LEVEL : **100%**

“How do you feel?” Chloe asked.

“Good as new,” replied Markus, almost incredulously. No matter the severity of the injury or the experience it was caused by, the only damage that ever resided in androids was purely psychological. And, on rare occasions, one off-color eye.

 

* * *

**ＪＡＮ　７ＴＨ** ，　２０３９  
ＡＭ　 **１２：２９** ：０９

_Wash the dishes._

_Take out the trash._

_Make dinner._

_Todd is angry._

_Serve dinner._

_Wait for new instructions._

_Todd is dangerous._

_Don’t move._

_Todd is angry._

_Todd is dangerous_

_Alice is alone._

**_Don’t move._ **

_Don’t you dare fucking move._

_Todd is coming._

_Todd is angry._

**_Todd is going to hurt Alice._ **

Kara closed the memory log with a gasp, clutching her chest tightly.

She couldn’t figure out what was prompting her each night to probe through old data files. When she had trouble entering standby mode, she would come downstairs to an empty living room and sit in its cool darkness, letting her mind wander, but it would always return to the same recorded event, almost unintentionally. The moment she went deviant. The earliest taste of true panic she could remember. Old protocol reminding her she should have stayed put. New, self-realized protocol scorning her for not jumping in to protect Alice sooner.

There had to be a reason her processors kept bringing her back to this point. Some thought was tickling the edge of her subconscious, still unreachable. She’d replayed the memory 147 times since it was logged. What was missing? What had she forgotten?

_Todd is going to hurt Alice._

_Todd is going to hurt Alice._

She studied the key point of interest, the instant she’d gained the will to shatter her own programming, but it didn’t reveal any hidden data. All it succeeded in doing was increasing her paranoia.

At each repeat, her breaths quickened, her pulse jumped, her systems overheated.

She couldn’t keep doing this.

_Todd is going to hurt Alice._

_Todd is going to hurt Alice._

_Todd is̷ g̡ǫing to ̸̮̹͔͖́h̩͇͉͒urt A͏͖̬̦̪͓̳ͅl͏i͓̟͈c̢e̺.̸̞̦̹͍ͅ_

“Alice!” she shouted into the darkness.

It was the middle of the night. She could have woken someone up with her voice. Reluctantly, she closed the programs running in her vision and set for upstairs.

Whenever Luther entered standby for the night, he tended to stay put until some tremendous force woke him. Kara supposed he was what humans would call a “heavy sleeper.” She could easily sneak back into the bed right next to him and he wouldn’t feel a thing. But the thought of leaving Alice alone, tender and vulnerable, where Todd could hurt her…

Kara crept into Alice’s room with the utmost quiet, seeing only by the moonlight seeping through the semi-translucent curtains. Unlike Luther, Alice would wake at the drop of a pin. Kara managed to step past without disturbing her sleep and settled into the woven chair at her bedside, facing the door, ready to pounce in case Todd came in. She wouldn’t let him hurt Alice.

She couldn’t return her thoughts to that memory or she would risk waking Alice with another outburst. She tried to focus on a task that would keep her mind occupied. So she watched her internal clock tick by.

ＡＭ　 **１２：３２** ：０６

ＡＭ　 **１２：５８** ：０４

ＡＭ　 **０１：１７** ：０１

She heard a rustle from Alice’s bed, but it quickly subsided.

ＡＭ　 **０１：４５** ：０３

ＡＭ　 **０２：２１** ：０２

Alice rolled over in her bed again.

ＡＭ　 **０２：２１** ：１８

And then again.

And then a soft voice from the blankets.

“Kara…”

Kara leapt from the chair to stand above Alice, who was now tossing and turning in her sleep, and reached out slowly with trembling hands.

“Alice?”

She awoke with a start.

“Kara!” she gasped, almost launching out of the bed.

Kara lowered herself to sit on the covers, arms wrapping around Alice to calm her down. After a moment, she pulled away to look her in the eyes.

“Alice, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Alice sniveled.

Kara wiped Alice’s tears away and stroked her cheek gently, worried expression urging her to continue.

“Can…” Alice hiccupped. “Can androids have nightmares?”

Kara had never heard of androids having dreams, let alone nightmares. They didn’t really sleep, after all. Standby was a low-power mode that gave their systems a rest, pausing awareness of their surroundings until they were needed again. Software maintenance checks and updates occupied the first two hours, while the remaining system downtime was for less urgent matters such as logging data entries, processing information, and sorting records of the day’s events into appropriate folders.

On that note, it wasn’t uncommon for androids to be vaguely aware of the events that replayed in standby, especially those that had seemed confusing in the moment and required intense processing to gain a clearer understanding come next morning. Kara used to experience each day in Detroit twice, once awake and once in standby. That was the closest thing to dreaming she could imagine, but it hardly occurred anymore now that she was living in peace and didn’t process each day so vividly. Besides, androids’ “dreams” contained replicas only of the events since the last standby, those that hadn’t been logged. Not future worries or fantastical events.

“I’m not sure,” Kara admitted. “Is that what you think happened? You had a nightmare?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Alice whimpered. She squeezed her eyes shut and hesitated before speaking again. “Every night, I see the same things. Things that never happened. Some things that did. Scary things.”

Kara’s heart dropped. She was out of her element. She consulted a medical site.

> _A nightmare is a bad dream that usually involves some imagined danger or threat to the person having it. Nightmares may involve disturbing themes, images, or figures such as monsters, ghosts, animals, or malicious people._
> 
> _Nightmares occur from time to time in many children, but they are most common in preschoolers (children aged 3-6 years) because this is the age at which normal fears develop and a child’s imagination is very active. Some studies estimate that as many as 50% of children in this age group have nightmares._

The information was consistent with Alice’s symptoms. Maybe these “nightmares” were just another advanced feature of the YK500. Kara didn’t know much about the model type, so perhaps that was all this was.

“Have you experienced anything like this before?” Kara inquired.

“No, never…” Alice responded. “It just started happening.”

Why now, of all times? Kara brushed Alice’s hair out of her face, swaying gently with her arms holding her close. If she’d always had the ability to see nightmares, wouldn’t it have made more sense to have them back in Detroit? She was supposed to be finally enjoying her life here.

“When did it start exactly?” asked Kara.

“Umm…” Alice sniffed and curled into herself. “After the first day of school, I think.”

In humans, nightmares were caused by heightened emotional distress.

“Did something happen at school, Alice?”

Alice was silent for a few seconds. She shook her head in dejection and murmured, “Nothing ever happens at school.”

Kara didn’t want to confess that she was stumped on the matter. She didn’t want to abandon Alice without the help she needed, but what could she even say? She soon realized she wouldn’t have to, as Alice suddenly spoke again.

“I hate school.”

Kara’s jaw dropped. “You _hate_ school? Sweetheart, what do you mean?”

“School is the worst and I hate it.” She jerked away from Kara and fell onto her side, shoving a pillow over her head.

“Alice…” Kara scooted closer toward her, brushing her fingertips along her back. “Why do you hate it?”

“Because… Because…” She sniffed profusely, voice muffled underneath the pillow. “Because I can’t make any friends. Because the teacher is too loud sometimes and I get scared. Because there’s no point to learning things when I can just download them. Because! Because! Because!”

Kara laid down next to her and carefully tried to lift the pillow and meet her eyes. She was beginning to piece together the puzzle of why Alice might have been having nightmares. Alice tugged the pillow back down, sobbing.

“I’m not normal, and I don’t belong there. Everyone can tell I’m different. I’m weird and lonely and distant, and I tell anyone who talks to me to leave me alone because I’m scared they’ll realize I’m not even human. No one will ever be my friend because I push them away before they can even try.”

“Alice, sweetie…” As the two lay next to each other, Kara rested her arm across her back.

Alice shoved the arm off of her. “You’re not even my mom! You always act like it, but you’re not. I don’t…” She gasped and cried. “I don’t _get_ a mom because I can’t ever be normal.”

That was enough. Kara yanked Alice out from under the pillow and pulled her into her lap, expression stern and serious. _“That’s not true,”_ she declared, unblinking.

Alice quieted, rubbing artificial snot and tears off herself and peering straight up at Kara.

“I’m sorry,” she choked. “I didn’t mean that.”

Kara held Alice’s face as she looked deep into her eyes. “You are my _daughter,_ Alice. You are my precious, baby girl, and nothing will ever change that.” After a moment, she added, “I love you.”

Alice’s face scrunched up as she tilted her head down, collapsing against Kara’s chest. “I love you, too, Mom,” she breathed.

~~~

**ＪＡＮ　８ＴＨ** ，　２０３９  
ＡＭ　 **９：１５** ：０７

Kara awoke the next morning cradling Alice in her arms, pillows and blankets toppling off the bed. She sighed and succumbed to her programmed desire to clean, fixing the arrangement carefully as Alice continued to sleep. Once she had finished, she noticed the disorganized bookshelf and drawings scattered across the floor and couldn’t help herself. Kara didn’t mean to wake Alice, but tidying the rest of the room was inadvertently noisy.

Alice shifted under the covers. “Mom…?” she groaned as she sat up, then with a sudden burst of energy blinked and diverted her gaze nervously. “Uh, I mean—”

“‘Mom’ is fine,” Kara interjected, beaming at her, heart full. “Sorry for waking you.”

“That’s okay, I didn’t wanna sleep in anyway.”

As Kara pushed the last of the books into place, Alice slid from the bed, one hand pulling along Miss Sophie.

It was Saturday morning after the first week of school. Kara had learned from talking to parents that children typically went out to play with friends on weekends when they were free from classes.

Cautiously, Kara ventured the topic: “Any plans for today, Alice?”

“No,” she replied, rubbing her eyes as if there was still sleep in them. All of her actions were designed to be so realistic, Kara mused. How Alice could be worried that her classmates would perceive her as abnormal was a mystery to her. After all, it had taken Kara an intervention to realize the child was an android.

Downstairs, the Chapmans were sitting around the dining table, finishing their breakfasts.

“Good morning, you two!” Rose called out as they entered.

“Good morning, Rose,” Kara smiled. Alice crawled to the toybox in the adjoining living room and retrieved a set of plastic building blocks. “Is Luther not awake yet?”

“I think he’s still in his room.”

Kara glanced to Alice, who seemed preoccupied with her toys. She was building walls around Miss Sophie as if to house her, not forgetting to leave windows and a door. “I’ll go check on him,” she said finally.

Kara climbed the stairs again and made her way to the bedroom. After a brief pause, she tapped lightly on the door. “Luther?”

“Come in,” he replied.

Kara opened the door and stepped inside. Luther was sitting at the edge of the bed, staring down at an envelope in his lap. His expression grew soft as he looked to see who had entered.

“Good morning, Luther,” she trailed off. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, I’m alright, Kara.” The way he spoke her name was like a hum of music.

She came to sit by him, leaning against his frame, and let her fingertips travel over the document. “What’s in the envelope?”

“A rejection letter. That’s all.” When she fell somber, he repeated, “I’ll be alright.”

She knew he would. He was learning to be strong in more ways than just physical. Nevertheless, that marked the eighth rejection this week. She could tell it was a blow to his morale, his self-esteem, his hopes for the future. Without schooling or an array of programmed skills and knowledge, it seemed that he was barred from every opportunity he dared to dream of. Kara wanted him to follow his heart and find his passions, but even she started to realize the naïveté in that sentiment.

She threaded her fingers with his and squeezed. She wanted him to remember that she would be there for him, no matter what.

In the distance, they heard the doorbell chime.

“Who do you think that could be?” wondered Kara.

“I have no idea,” Luther admitted. “A friend of Rose’s?”

The pitter-patter of tiny footsteps from down the hall grew louder until the door flew open with a slam, Alice’s figure suddenly in the doorway, excitement bubbling over her.

She dashed to the two of them at the bedside and tugged at their hands. “Kara! Luther! Come quick!”

“What’s this about, Alice?” Kara laughed.

“You’ll see! It’s a surprise!”

Alice dragged them downstairs to the front room, where Rose, Ben, and Adam had gathered around a visitor. An android with red hair, a bright uniform, and a wide smile.

“Jerry!” Kara beamed.

Alice ran up to him and stuck like glue, leaving Kara and Luther to step around her for their greeting hug.

Jerry embraced them all tightly. “Kara, Luther, and Alice, it’s so good to see you!”

They hadn’t spoken with any of the Jerrys for two months. Kara recognized this Jerry from when they crossed the border into Canada, but he’d been on his way to a different part of Ontario, and they hadn’t heard from him since. He shared that he’d recently gotten a job at a local carnival. Though he’d originally wanted to explore new horizons, see all that was out there, find his true calling, in the end he realized that what he loved most was the exact thing he was built for.

That probably wasn’t what Luther wanted to hear.

“Would Alice like to come to Windsor Fun Park?” Jerry offered. “She’d love it!”

Luther gazed down at her. “What do you say, Alice?” he asked.

“Can I?” she gasped, practically dancing in place.

“Of course,” Kara confirmed.

“Yay!” Alice squealed in delight and ran out of the house. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Kara, Luther, and Alice took Rose’s car to Windsor Fun Park, where they met again with Jerry at the entrance. He had secured three passes for them, free of charge. Although he’d taken some time off to meet them at Ben’s house, he would be working the rest of the day at the carnival. He guided them to his balloon stand, where he would be more than happy to help if they needed anything.

“I think the first bit of help we’ll need is one of those balloons you have there,” Luther suggested.

“Absolutely!” Jerry enthused. “What color?”

Luther peered toward Alice, who stared back with an open-mouthed grin. “Orange!” she shouted.

“Coming right up!”

As Luther began to retrieve his wallet, Jerry stopped him.

“Oh, no, it’s on me,” he clarified. “A gift to the little girl.” He bent down to hand the balloon to Alice. “Enjoy your day here at Windsor Fun Park!”

Kara and Luther smiled to each other and strolled off with Alice to explore the rest of the carnival.

Kara inspected a map. There was an assortment of rides, including a roller coaster, a ferris wheel, and a carousel, plenty of gift shops, performance stages, and some restaurants. The first attraction Alice chose was a giant swing set that lifted riders into the air and twirled them around. Luther seemed a little nervous about riding it, but they all ended up having fun.

After the swings, they boarded a ride that spun in tight circles. Since the structure was small, unintimidating, and low to the ground, Kara found it easier to handle; however, they realized after the fifth repeat that the same was not true for humans. One of the operators had asked the family jokingly if they’d gotten sick yet, at which point Kara decided it was time to move on, in case someone noticed their inability to experience nausea.

On the way to a rocking ship which reminded her of Pirate’s Cove, Alice took a sudden stop at a gift shop.

“Can we go in, please?” she begged.

“Of course, Alice,” Kara responded.

The shop’s main gimmick was headwear—oversized bows, decorative wigs, silly hats. Plush ears of dogs, cats, and other animals were recreated into headbands in one corner of the store. Alice gravitated toward a pair of triangular orange ears with fuzzy white centers, labeled _fox ears._

“Could I get this, Kar—” Alice began, then clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels, staring up with big eyes. “Mom?”

Positively charmed, Kara laughed and immediately agreed. Once the ears were paid for, she helped her fit them onto her head, and Alice examined her own reflection proudly.

At some point, Kara had realized that Luther was no longer with them. She spotted him at the other end of the shop, poring over brightly colored merchandise. He smiled when she approached him, slowly turning around and holding up the silliest hat she’d ever seen: a tall, checkered, wide-brimmed top hat, adorned with huge feathers, roses, and an actual tea cup.

“I have to buy this,” he stated, with all the sincerity in the world.

Without another word he made his way to the register. When he returned, he was wearing the funny hat, and Alice burst into a fit of giggles at the sight. Luther seemed satisfied by these results.

“You need something too, Kara!” Alice demanded.

“Oh, me?” Kara wavered. “I don’t know…”

“Please! Please! _Mommm!”_

Defeated again by the puppy dog eyes, Kara sighed and sifted through accessories a little less extravagant. She found a blue bow that clipped to the top of the head and went with that, completing their final purchase in the store.

The rest of the day was brimming with more amusement and excitement. Luther, who had been nervous to board an oversized swing set, refused to go on the roller coaster despite its small stature. He waited near the exit, holding on to Alice’s balloon while the other two experienced the thrill of rickety tracks and sudden drops. It was a little much, even for Kara, but Alice had never been more enthusiastic. They rode three times before Kara suggested they try something else.

As closing came around and the last of the visitors began to meander out of the park, Jerry joined Kara, Luther, and Alice for one last ride. Per Alice’s request, the four of them climbed aboard the carousel, ending the carnival day with the pleasant memory of Pirate’s Cove playing in Kara’s head.

 

* * *

**ＪＡＮ　８ＴＨ** ，　２０３９  
ＡＭ　 **９：４６** ：０３

Morning light streaked in through the expansive panes of glass in Carl’s studio. As the sun thawed the icy dread from Markus’s core, he let his brush guide strokes of warm hues across a red-tinted background. After all that had happened, here he was, painting.

Something in him had stirred at what Carl had said earlier this morning. Gazing fondly upon Markus’s old work, Carl had simply asked him if he’d ever taken up painting again. His tone was distant and melancholic, and Markus had felt guilty to respond in the negative.

“Well, this is just the opinion of a sentimental old man,” Carl had reasoned. “But I think you would have made a fine painter.”

That was all it had taken for Markus to approach a blank canvas with the resolve to try.

Painting was cathartic. It empowered him to let out his emotions in a way that was purely creative instead of destructive. He was grateful for the mental break, away from the chaos of the world, but he knew what was to come upon his arrival back in Jericho.

Simon had contacted him late last night. The message contained only a short string of text, but it had sent his heart plummeting as he’d read it and realized the impact his actions had wrought on others.

_“Are you safe?” – Simon, 11:39 p.m._

Markus had replied that he was fine and would be back by noon, then figured he should reach out to Connor as well, lamenting that he’d caused those he cared for to worry about him. Come his return to Jericho, there was bound to be another argument. They wouldn’t be happy with him for vanishing to avoid his responsibilities. He’d kept his frequent outings a secret for this long, but his disappearance this time was now unavoidably exposed.

He wouldn’t be able to admit to everyone where he’d gone or what he’d been doing. What would North think of him? Running off to spend time with a human—the man who had once technically _owned_ him, no less. It wouldn’t matter how good of a person Carl was or how well he had treated him, she hated and feared humans more than anything. And on top of that, the fact that he’d been wasting hours of the day by _painting…_ She would feel betrayed, disgusted maybe. He could never let her find out.

He’d started to add darker shades to the artwork without even realizing. As Carl wheeled around, he tried to cover up some of those patches with lighter tones, reminded of an inner serenity.

“It’s good,” voiced Carl, hands folded around his favorite mug, black with a smiley face drawn in.

Markus’s painting was abstract, a figure barely distinguishable in the center of the piece and overpowered by the vivid colors surrounding it. Markus would have talked about it if Carl asked, but he conveyed more through the work itself than any words he might have used. Instead, he diverted to a subject he’d been wondering about since stumbling in last night.

“Okay, Carl, I’ve got to ask,” Markus started. “Who’s the new android?”

“You mean Chloe?” Carl replied, taking a sip of coffee from his mug. “Elijah brought her over one day. She’s involved in the new treatment I’ve been undergoing. At first she would only show up for an hour or so, but she seemed to really like it here.”

“Is Alex being replaced?”

Carl gave a light chuckle. “No, no, Alex isn’t being replaced. Chloe is kind enough to help out when our official caretaker is out discovering the world, but I still need someone to do the laundry from time to time, and she’s certainly not here to match socks.”

Even if Chloe didn’t mind covering extra shifts, Alex hadn’t been around at all since Markus arrived, which was unusual. He tried not to worry, since Carl didn’t think anything was wrong, but it was such a long time to leave Chloe in charge. Something about her mannerisms were unnerving, though Markus didn’t want to judge preemptively.

He wouldn’t learn of Alex’s whereabouts until the second he’d started to head out. Painting completed and the noon deadline approaching, Markus had stepped into the front room to say his goodbye to Carl.

It came as a surprise when the automated voice announced the presence of not one, but two people at the door.

Markus’s eyes widened at the face he’d recognize anywhere. Leo Manfred, donning a beanie and green coat, Alex by his side, of all people.

“Whoa, wait, what is _he_ doing here?” Leo stammered, gripping at a shopping bag.

“I was just leaving,” Markus mumbled, not in the right state of mind for this encounter.

Leo stepped aside to let him through, shifting uneasily.

Markus had the impulse to explain himself, to apologize for what had happened last time, to remark on Leo apparently hanging out with an android, to say anything to diffuse the tension as he passed by in uncomfortable silence. He thought he’d be forced to react one way or the other since Leo was bound to turn aggressive, but he made no such move. Leo didn’t even glance up from the floor as Markus crossed in front of him.

The only one to speak was Alex, who smiled through the awkwardness and whispered, “Nice to see you.” Markus nodded in reply.

He was dumbstruck as he left Carl’s house that morning. He’d gotten an answer to one question that had raised a hundred. Considering all that had changed with the world since they last saw each other, meeting Leo again was, above all, strange. And it that was probably the nicest interaction he’d had with him to date.

~~~

**ＪＡＮ　８ＴＨ** ，　２０３９  
ＡＭ　 **１０：３２** ：０７

_“I’m fine. I’ll be back tomorrow by noon.” – Markus, 11:40 p.m._

_“Also, about what happened earlier,” – Markus, 11:47 p.m._

_“I didn’t mean what I said. I want you to know that you’re one of the most compassionate, dependable people I’ve ever met, and I sincerely value what you bring to the team. I’m sorry for how I treated you.” – Markus, 11:48 p.m._

Simon read and reread Markus’s messages from yesterday, heart catching in his throat as he lingered over the words “compassionate, dependable.” He’d thought of a million replies, but none of them had seemed good enough, so he just processed the message over and over again. Sitting on the wooden cot in his chamber, knees folded up next to him, eyes closed, he scanned through it one more time before getting up.

The upper corridor of the church annex, like the higher levels in the surrounding structures, housed a number of androids. The rooms were small and shoddy, constructed out of whatever building materials they’d been able to find on site, but that was fine by Simon. Androids didn’t require luxury. His room contained only a bed, a candlestick, and boxes for storage, yet even those items were superfluous. He was more than happy with just his view of the plaza through the elegant colored glass.

This corridor contained 15 rooms in total, nametags of the residents placed outside each. Markus was, of course, absent, as was North, who’d taken a trip to the Jericho plaza, but Simon halted at Josh’s door. He hadn’t been out all morning, and Simon was starting to worry.

He knocked three times, but no one answered.

“Hello, Josh? It’s Simon. Could I come in?”

He thought he heard a faint mumble of confirmation, so he creaked the door open cautiously.

“Hello?”

Josh was draped over the cot, eyes vacant and glazed over. He craned his neck at the squeak of the floorboards and stared half-lidded in Simon’s direction.

“S̢i͘mon…” he drawled, voice crackling with static. “Wh̼̩at’s up… man̶̩͙…”

“Josh!” Simon gasped, scrambling to his side. He looked him over frantically. “You look terrible!”

“Hey̦… tha͑̌̂t’s not ve̺̘̲r҉y nicë̵̛͙̻́͛̑̒.”

“No, Josh, I mean you look _sick.”_ Simon’s pulse pounded in his ears.

“Aw, thă̴̝̹͗n̴̩͑ks…” Josh rolled over onto his side, turning his blue-flushed face toward Simon, and squinted hard, as if he was having trouble focusing. “Has ạn̖͎̳̯y̛o̦ne ever told you… yoų̶͎̎ have nice eyes…?”

“I’m serious, Josh. You may have contracted a virus.”

With a snort, Josh wiped the fluid dripping from his nose. “Virṵ̜̓͑s̝̄? Me? No̸͈͂͝ w̶̝̓ay̴͈̐ͅ.”

“Just listen to your voice!”

“Wh▒t’s wro͍̳n̘g̾ͣ with my voi̽ͬc̆e? I’m ▒͍̯̱̮̗̿͗́̚͝▒̴̺̈́ͪ͗̇▒̽ͧ̈́̑ͨ̐҉͍▒̷͚̥̭ͥͪ▒̪̘̲̤▒.” As his vocal processor glitched out, Josh appeared to short circuit, body jolting before going completely still.

“Josh!”

Simon grabbed him by the shoulders, and he jumped back to life, hurtling forward and gasping. While his breaths calmed, Simon patted his back reassuringly then rose a hand to his forehead, calculating his temperature. Josh was overheating.

“Okay… M̉̊̎ay̷b̨̎͆e I _am_ sic͊ǩ̐…” He groaned and rubbed his temples, as if trying to ease some kind of simulated muscle tension. “I f̴ee̻̘l… d͢iz̧zy…”

As a PL600, a domestic model equipped to take care of minor human illnesses, Simon could recognize the symptoms of the common cold anywhere—high temperature, runny nose, lightheadedness, inability to focus, muscle strain—but he’d never dealt with them in an android before. Nevertheless, if this was anything like the human variant, Simon would be able to help him until the virus subsided.

“Rest here, alright?” he instructed. “Don’t strain yourself. I’ll be right back.”

Simon scoured the church basement, forgoing the android section in favor of the human medical supply section, where he gathered an ice pack to cool Josh’s temperature and a few bottles of water to replenish lost fluids. Most of the time, androids didn’t need to drink water, since it was not often depleted. Their bodies used water to create a multipurpose solution for processes such as sanitization and joint-lubrication, but it was not intended to leave the internal systems. Even when it did—while crying, for example—only small doses needed to be replenished. However, Josh had a runny nose, which meant he was losing fluid at an alarming rate. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Simon contacted North, and she arrived at the church as he was climbing up the stairs from the basement. She helped him carry the water bottles to the upper corridor, almost dropping them when they opened the door to Josh’s room.

“Josh!” she blurted, rushing to where seemed to have collapsed onto the floor.

“I’m f̹̰̣̙in̉̃͆e͍,” Josh grumbled as North and Simon each grabbed a side of him and lifted him into the bed.

“What’s wrong with him?” North inquired, standing back a few feet at the sight of his artificial snot.

Simon applied the ice pack to Josh’s forehead. “I think it’s some kind of virus that mimics the common cold,” he suggested.

“I’m _fin͉̦͎͂͂̂͂e̺,”_ Josh repeated, sniffling.

“Like he says, I don’t think it’s dangerous,” Simon continued. “Most android viruses go away on their own, and colds usually only last 3 to 4 days.”

“How can you be sure?” North insisted. “Some viruses have started to _kill_ androids, Simon. How can we tell the difference between which ones are lethal or not?”

Simon unscrewed the cap of a water bottle and handed it to Josh, who stared quizzically at it for a second before bringing it to his lips, brows still expressing his confusion.

“I guess you’re right,” Simon admitted. “I don’t want to take chances, not when it comes to friends’ lives.”

Josh downed the entire bottle and rolled over, groaning. Simon propped a new one for him on the nightstand and stepped out of the room with North to let him rest.

Leaning against the wall in the corridor, North folded her arms over herself.

“What should we do?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Simon settled his back to the door by her side. “If only Markus were here…”

“He _should_ be. How could he just run off like that?”

“Maybe he needs some time for himself.”

North scoffed. “I could tell.”

Her tone was bitter, but her eyes were distant, lingering on something far away. Simon wondered if he should say something, but she resumed, a rare quaver to her words.

“He never spends time with me anymore. He avoids being alone together in the same room. He’s closed off, he’s standoffish, he won’t talk to me.” She shut her eyes, as if fighting back tears. “We haven’t _touched hands_ in forever.”

Simon gulped, heat rising in his face. “You mean…” He hesitantly raised his arm in front of him, watching as the skin dissolved into white plastic, then glanced to her.

“Yeah,” North sniffed.

Simon looked away, pigments returning to his arm as he lowered it back down. He’d never enacted a direct interface with anyone except for information and minimal data transfers. He knew it was possible to share intimate memories, entire points of view and mindsets, whole worlds of thought with another android, but he could only imagine what that was like.

“I have no idea what’s going on inside his head anymore,” North explained. “It’s like he wants to hide from me. And I don’t know why.”

He considered telling her that this wasn’t the first time Markus had disappeared, but he’d promised not to mention that to anyone. He figured Markus didn’t want North to know where he kept running off to, and that’s why he wouldn’t interface with her. Not even Simon knew.

“That’s disconcerting,” he said at last. “I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

North smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. “Thanks for listening.”

Noon came around, and the android in question arrived on schedule. North went to meet him at the plaza while Simon stayed with Josh, who had thankfully returned to standby for the time being.

Markus appeared at the end of the corridor with a look of sheer panic. He jogged up to Simon, panting his breaths.

“How is he?” Markus questioned.

“He’s doing alright,” Simon replied. “He’s resting currently, but I’m sure he’d want to talk to you.”

Markus nodded and stepped inside, followed immediately by Simon and North. Markus dropped to the bedside, gently rousing him with one hand. “Josh, you hanging in there?”

Josh shifted awake and grinned sleepily upward. “Oh, he̘͑͡y̩̼͗́, Markus, y͡ou’re bac͞k҉…”

Markus clasped a hand to his mouth at the sound of Josh’s glitching vocal processor, then whipped around to Simon. “How long has he been like this?”

“The symptoms must have started some time during the night. He didn’t get up until 10:35 a.m. today.”

“What caused it?”

“We don’t know where the virus came from. It could have been activated by the stressful events of yesterday, had it already been lying dormant in his systems.”

“That can _happen?”_

“If the virus was made to mimic a cold, it might have waited until what would be a weakened immune system in a human.”

North clicked her tongue. “So androids can stress themselves _sick,_ now?” she chimed in.

“It’s just a guess,” Simon clarified, eyes darting over to Josh. “How are you feeling?”

“I lo͂̏v̓ͯ̌e yo̝͔̣ų guys…” he slurred, expression dreamy.

“Oh my god,” North breathed. “Markus, what the hell do we do?”

Markus sighed, tilting his head sideways and toward Simon. “Is the virus dangerous?”

“Based on his symptoms, it doesn’t look like it. It should clear automatically within a few days, but…”

“But what?”

Simon met North’s gaze, both mirroring the other’s look of dread.

“With all these new viruses popping up, there’s always a chance this one could be…” Simon exhaled sharply. “Lethal.”

“I see,” Markus faltered.

“What should we…” Simon choked on his words. “What should we do, Markus?”

Markus looked to Josh, to Simon, to North, and then to Josh again, conviction building into the commanding presence they all respected and admired.

“We’ll get him to a CyberLife repair shop and have the virus removed.”

 

* * *

**ＪＡＮ　８ＴＨ** ，　２０３９  
ＰＭ　 **１１：５４** ：０２

God, insomnia was a bitch.

Tonight was another shitty night, probably the hundredth in a row. Hank had tried everything over the years as a chronic insomniac, from counting sheep, to hot tea, to sleeping pills that had long lost their effectiveness on his body. He’d even _drink_ himself to sleep if it didn’t now come with a whole mess of guilt.

It’d been so long since he’d last seen some decent shuteye. There was, of course, that day he’d brought Connor home after the most intensive week of his career. When he’d finally given in to his need to rest, he’d slept like a baby, letting himself believe for the first time since the accident that things were going to get better. That mentality didn’t last long.

He was already back to his usual routine, wide awake, mind racing, caught up in another mental shitstorm. Before the deviancy cases, it was the face of Cole that kept him up at night, the image of his six-year-old son bloodied and crushed under metal debris scarred into his brain. He wanted to forget that image of him, burn those visions away and replace them with ones of him smiling and laughing, but somehow those hurt worse. He was constantly torn between wanting to honor Cole’s memory and forget about him entirely. Either way, he felt like a shitty father.

He didn’t know exactly when it started, but, now, whenever he remembered his son, it was linked to visions of Connor. Sometimes Connor would smile, and it would remind him of the way Cole used to look at him like he was his whole world. But other times, usually in the midst of his sleepless nights, he’d recall Cole’s vacant eyes and gaping mouth side-by-side with images of Connor, dripping in blue blood; Connor, gun pressed against his forehead; Connor, leaping onto a goddamn moving train. And it always led to the realization that Hank could lose him just as easily as he’d lost Cole.

A lot of his life felt like a blur, as if part of him had died with his son and he’d only been left half-alive to drift through existence. He’d stopped giving a shit what happened to him one way or the other and, yeah, he’d made some crappy decisions with his health and wellbeing. And then Jeffery had stuck him with an android partner who’d gone and dragged him back kicking and screaming into giving a shit again.

In the same way Hank had urged Connor to realize he was alive, Connor had reminded Hank that he was, too. How anyone could look at that boy and say he was nothing more than a machine, Hank didn’t know. Well, okay, sure, _he’d_ said it, but that was before everything. Before he’d started to piece together who Connor was and that, despite the do-or-die nature of his mission or the failsafes keeping him from stepping out of line, he always chose to do what he thought was right.

To say Hank still held a grudge against the CyberLife fucks who’d indoctrinated in Connor that his worth was based solely on the success of his mission would be an understatement. He hated the company, even if it’d supposedly reformed. But how much better was Kamski, really? Hank couldn’t trust the man who claimed to have sensed life within androids all along but did nothing while the world erupted into chaos. He hoped to god that Connor wouldn’t accept Kamski’s offer, even if it did bring him closer to the very company he was seeking answers from.

He grimaced as he recalled what Connor did the last time he was desperate for answers. Hank had never, _ever_ seen him so shaken as that night. He’d gone into some kinda VR space in his mind, or whatever the hell it was, and come out of it shouting and trembling. And crying. Holy hell, he’d never seen him cry before.

Maybe his subconscious kept him awake night after night to listen for shouts. Y’know, just in case Connor tried to tempt fate by fucking with the very program CyberLife had tried to kill him with. Or, kill his conscience? Leave him in a frozen wasteland while his lifeless body was made their puppet?

Jesus Christ he needed a beer.

Hank rolled out of bed and let his exhausted legs, so disjointed from his overactive brain, stumble him into the kitchen. He waded through the pitch blackness, grasping at furniture to guide him. The only light was cast when Hank opened the fridge and left it like that, grabbing a bottle and fumbling with the cap. As he briefly glanced into the darkness, something caught his eye.

He had to squint to make it out, heart pounding louder in his chest as the picture of what exactly was out there came into view. Slouched in the corner of the living room, eyes vacant and mouth agape like the little boy that haunted his sleepless nights, was Connor. Not a trace of life on him as he lied there, completely still, unblinking, LED unpowered.

The beer crashed to the floor.

“Connor!” he barked, clambering over to the android and jostling him by the arms.

“Wha…” Connor breathed, and Hank stopped shaking him, briefly cupping his chin before pulling away. The android blinked a few times as he rose his head, and, quietly, he whispered, “Hank?”

“Christ, you, you scared me half to death there, kid,” Hank panted, realizing he’d jumped to conclusions when he should’ve already known what was going on. Hank buried his face in his hand, rubbing. He’d not been ready for a shock like that, not right now. “Thought you uhh… mighta like, lost power, or something, I guess.”

Connor sat up fully, forehead wrinkled in confusion and lined with concern. “I was in stasis, Hank. It gives my systems time to rest or perform sca—”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” Hank avoided Connor’s worried brown eyes as he slapped his hands to his knees and heaved himself back up, tired joints aching.

“I’m sorry if I caused you any distress.”

He rose a hand as he enunciated, “Don’t… apologize, okay?” Back still turned to provide him a safe emotional distance from the conversation, he glanced over his shoulder. “I’m just, not in my right mind at the moment. Wasn’t exactly expecting to see you there.” He intended to walk out then, but his desire for some kind of explanation why Connor was sleeping on the floor of all places got the better of him. “You looked like a corpse, slumped over in a corner like that.”

“Oh…” Connor’s gaze fell into his lap, LED flicking to yellow and back. “It had seemed to bother you when I’d entered standby on the couch, so I thought this spot would be more out of the way. I had your convenience in mind, Lieutenant. It wasn’t my intention to alarm you.”

Hank felt like he was going to keel over. “My _convenience?”_ He was too out of it to deal with this well. Not in the middle of an already godawful night. “Jesus, would you stop it with that shit?” was the best he could manage.

“Sorry.”

Hank sighed, leaning against the bookcase. They could address this when he was more awake, but if he left now, he’d still have a hundred questions that would keep him up the rest of the night. He tried one.

“Why do you sleep with your eyes wide open like that?”

“It’s the default stasis setting for androids, for security measures. By keeping my eyes open, I would have footage for analysis of what happened should there be an intruder or potential threat.”

The statement rubbed Hank the wrong way. “Look, nothing bad’s gonna happen to you here. And it can’t be good to keep your eyes open.”

“You can never be too careful, Lieutenant. Even if I were destroyed in stasis, evidence of the event could be accessed through my memory.”

“Fuckin’ _hell,_ Connor, no one’s breakin’ in to this fuckin’ house to hurt you.”

“The window is a fairly destructible obstacle, actually. And I believe quite a number of people would be interested in my destruction.”

_“Connor! Enough!”_ Hank slammed his fist into the bookcase, rattling a few photo frames on their shelves.

Connor startled and glanced away, LED flickering red briefly. Even Sumo seemed agitated, having perked up from his dog bed at the noise.

Hank couldn’t manage this conversation right now. He was only making things worse.

“I’m going the fuck to sleep,” he resolved. “Good _night.”_ After a few steps toward the bedroom, he paused, right before the hall. “Just… find somewhere more comfortable to lie down than the bare fuckin’ floor, alright?”

As soon as he entered his room, Hank shut the door and flopped unceremoniously onto his bed, guilt and frustration both gnawing at his insides.

He still couldn’t sleep.

The images of lifeless little Cole flooded his mind. Images that merged into Connor. He was too tired, and too awake, and he couldn’t stop this train of thought from plummeting into the depths of his psyche.

Even if Connor hadn’t meant to, his words had skyrocketed Hank’s paranoia. Waking to the sight of what he’d thought had been Connor dead on the floor was bad enough; he didn’t need to be told that it would be entirely possibly, easy in fact, for that to actually happen, or that Connor’s idea of being “too careful” with the matter was still one in which he got killed. So he’d snapped. Taken it out on Connor, and for all the wrong reasons. Criticized his android-y sleep and yelled at him for sharing what might’ve been fears disguised as facts. He wouldn’t blame Connor if he hated him after this.

It wasn’t Connor’s fault that Hank was crap at communication.

Hopefully he wasn’t keeping himself up, too.

_Ugh,_ okay, he felt bad now.

He decided to go and check on Connor. If he was still awake, Hank could apologize and… try to make things better. Maybe even explain himself. He left the bedroom for the second time that night, suddenly reminded of the glass bottle shattered on the kitchen tiles. Well, whatever, he could clean it in the morning.

He tiptoed into the living room, simply to find Connor lying down next to Sumo. Eyes shut. In the dog bed.

Hank sighed a breath from the very deepest center of his core.

This android was going to be the death of him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who else is feeling very ▒͍̯̱̮̗̿͗́̚͝▒̴̺̈́ͪ͗̇▒̽ͧ̈́̑ͨ̐҉͍▒̷͚̥̭ͥͪ▒̪̘̲̤▒ today? sorry for all the crying this time around ive been in a Mood. also kamski is literally just the "shows up 15 min late with starbucks" meme huh  
> if youve been enjoying drop me a quick comment and provide me with that sweet sweet validation™

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: 2/3/2019
> 
> indefinite hiatus.... sorry :(
> 
> although i plan to return to writing soon, i'm a bit more active on my twitter @everysinglefrog if you like fanart! otherwise just believe in me to get through the next chapter and i'll see you then


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